


Jump

by KikiJ



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Dancing, Drunkenness, Enjolras/Grantaire-centric, Eventual ECCR, Eventual Relationships, False Pretenses, Friends With Benefits, Grantaire Is Bad At Feelings, Grantaire is a Mess, Lack of Communication, M/M, Non-Binary Jean Prouvaire, Oral Sex, Partying, Pining, Romance, Slut Enjolras, Smut, Tags May Change, Trans Courfeyrac (Les Misérables)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:01:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 58,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29471388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KikiJ/pseuds/KikiJ
Summary: Enjolras is an incredibly efficient slut. Not wanting to get caught up in romantic drama, he has a system in place so he can meet boys, hook up with them, and then hardly ever see them again. Three times, maximum, in fact.Grantaire thinks it a strangely cold way to go about fulfilling what are, for many people, base needs. And yet this is the man Grantaire falls helplessly in love with, much to his dismay.So when Grantaire offers to get rid of the only “downside” Enjolras’ system has (IE. That by hooking up with a new guy every week he can never “get to know what they like”) by offering to be no-strings-attached friends with benefits, well, he’s literally and metaphorically fucked.Meanwhile, Courfeyrac and Combeferre watch this trainwreck happen in slow motion, with nothing they can do- it certainly doesn’t help that they both have feelings for Grantaire, to boot.
Relationships: Combeferre/Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), Combeferre/Courfeyrac/Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 45
Kudos: 68





	1. Chapter 1

Grantaire tilts back his cup, and then glances over at the dancefloor. His eyes are drawn immediately to a flash of beautiful blonde hair, and then to the hand that is twisting into that hair as Enjolras sucks face with some unknown man.

Placing his cup down on the table, Grantaire couldn’t hope to tear his gaze away.

However, he’s suddenly being jostled with a shoulder against his own, so he turns to see Courfeyrac grinning wildly with sparkling eyes.

“Whatcha staring at there, boo?” Courf yells directly in his ear, and Grantaire’s face burns, but it’s much too dark in the club for anyone to see.

“Nothing,” Grantaire insists. Then, he looks back out at Enjolras again, seeing him tilt his head to the side where the unknown man is kissing him on the neck.

“Right,” Courfeyrac yells back, then Grantaire looks at him again.

“What is up with that?” Grantaire asks, and Courfeyrac gives him a puzzled look.

“What’s up with what?”

“ _Him_ ,” Grantaire shouts back, jutting his chin towards Enjolras.

“Well, when two humans are incredibly attracted to one another- or just kind of attracted to each other but there’s alcohol involved…” Courfeyrac screams in his ear, and Grantaire rolls his eyes.

“But- this is the third guy I’ve seen him with in as many weeks… What gives?”

“Oh,” Courfeyrac then moves back to shrug exaggeratedly. “There’s kind of a story there- I’ll tell you later, okay?”

Grantaire raises his brows, and then nods.

Combeferre re-joins them a moment later, and Courfeyrac drags them all to the dance floor near Enjolras. Enj reaches out to dance with them, with boytoy’s hands all over his body from behind.

In one moment, Enjolras flashes a smile at Grantaire, and Grantaire feels his heart jump in his chest before he quickly looks literally anywhere else. When he glances back, Enjolras is facing the random guy, and Grantaire leans in to ask Courfeyrac and Combeferre if they want another drink.

At sometime past 1am, Courfeyrac, Combeferre, and Grantaire pile into Marius’ car. Cosette is sitting in the front seat, half-asleep with her head on the window.

Courfeyrac has drunkenly convinced Grantaire to stay the night at their house. Grantaire laughs as Courfeyrac wraps an arm around his neck and tells him something about his hair looking sexy, and Combeferre shakes his head.

The three men drunkenly stumble into the 4-bedroom house occupied by Courfeyrac, Combeferre, Marius, and Enjolras. They pad down the hall and up the stairs that lead directly to the living room, flopping on the couch. Cosette, however, goes straight to Marius’ bedroom on the ground floor, which is next to Combeferre’s bedroom (and the laundry room/second bath). 

“D’you guys need anything?” Marius asks, standing at the top of the stairs, and then glancing down at the door that leads to his bedroom.

“Ooh, where’s the menu for that one pizza place we like?” Courfeyrac asks, pulling Grantaire’s arm around his shoulder before kicking his legs into Combeferre’s lap.

“On the fridge.”

“Can you get it for usss?” Courfeyrac asks, pouting, and Marius sighs, but goes over to the kitchen to get the menu.

Marius is corralled into ordering pizza for them, before he finally disappears back downstairs to his room with Cosette.

Combeferre gets up to get the pizza when it arrives, cutting off their chatter, and they sit to eat it in drunken silence for a while.

“So, again, what’s up with Enjolras and the… many guys?” Grantaire asks, out of nowhere.

“Whattaya mean?” Courfeyrac asks, then wiggles his brows, “never had a slutty phase before?”

“I mean,” Grantaire scoffs, “I’ve been to college. Believe it or not. _Not_ that it got me anywhere, working at a fuckin’ bar,” he rolls his eyes. “But _him_ , you’re telling me Mr. Perfect Blonde Hair, law student extraordinaire, _Apollo_ above- is a slut?”

“By the definition of the word,” Combeferre admits.

“Huh. I guess I woulda just pegged him as a prude. Guess you know what they say about judging books by their cover,” Grantaire gives a little shrug, then leans to grab more pizza.

“To not do that,” Courfeyrac supplies, and Combeferre pats him on the leg.

“They do say not to do that,” Grantaire agrees sagely. “Well, fuck me,” he says, and Courferyac gets a coy smile, but Grantaire is glancing towards the hall beyond the kitchen where Enjolras’ room lays. “You said there was a story?”

“Hm?”

“In the club, you said there was a story to Enjolras’ _many_ hookups?” Grantaire says, and Courfeyrac lifts his head.

“Aah, yeah. He’s just… kind of weird about it,” Courfeyrac says, very helpful.

“He has rules,” Combeferre supplies instead, “about how many times he’ll allow himself to sleep with the same person, what kinds of sex he has. He, and I quote, ‘does not want to risk personal or romantic attachment when it comes to men’.”

“Holy fuck,” Grantaire, and Courfeyrac giggles.

“He’s a weirdo. But he’s _our_ weirdo.”

Combeferre nods along. Grantaire just shakes his head.

Eventually, Combeferre and Courfeyrac get up to put the pizza away. Grantaire offers to help, but Courfeyrac insists he’s a guest and that he should stay comfortable, so Grantaire kicks his feet up and snuggles into a blanket from the back of the couch.

Courfeyrac glances into the living room only a moment later to see Grantaire snoring happily away. He was going to offer his seldomly-used bedroom up to Grantaire, or… well, perhaps invite R to come snuggle _downstairs_ with him and Combeferre, but Courfeyrac doesn’t have the heart to wake him up now.

Before they trail down to bed, Combeferre places a glass of water on the table before Grantaire and Courfeyrac coos at him. They kiss, just a peck, and then disappear down the stairs for the night.

\--

When the sun wakes him up entirely too early, Grantaire pulls the pillow beneath his head over it instead. When he wakes for real a few hours later, he idly wonders if the pillow was always there and just didn’t see it last night, because it’s not one of the uncomfortable throw pillows he vaguely remembers from the couch.

He pays no mind to that, and instead gulps down the water that he has to assume is for him, and grabs his phone to check the time.

As he does that, someone walks down the hall behind the kitchen, and he glances up. It’s the tall, handsome guy from last night that Enjolras was clinging to. He’s got a jacket folded over his arm.

He nods firmly at Grantaire, and R lifts his hand in greeting, then glances back down at his phone. The guy bounces down the stairs fairly quickly, and Grantaire hears the front door open and shut a few minutes later.

Grantaire flips onto his back and yawns. He shuts his eyes again for a moment, but he opens them once more when he hears the front door again.

“Morning,” he hears, just before seeing Enjolras walking up the stairs.

“Hey,” he greets, and Enjolras walks through the living room to put some brown paper bags and a cardboard carrier containing travel mugs onto the counter. “Do you like coffee?”

Grantaire lets out a laugh.

“Is that a yes…?”

“Uh, yeah.”

Grantaire glances through the half-wall between the living room and kitchen, as Enjolras pours coffee from his travel mugs into regular mugs. “I have vegan breakfast sandwiches, too, if you’d like,” Enjolras informs him, and Grantaire slowly stands up. “I don’t know how you usually take it.”

Grantaire blinks, and Enjolras holds up a coffee mug.

“Oh. Black, obviously,” Grantaire scoffs. Enjolras pulls a comical face of distaste, and Grantaire is momentarily stunned. He didn’t realize Enj could be so expressive, unless he were yelling about the patriarchy or wage inequality to a group of people. 

Enjolras places the coffee on the ledge between the living room and kitchen, then dumps an entire spoon of sugar into his own mug and stirs it. It’s Grantaire’s turn to pull a face, but Enjolras doesn’t see.

“Morning!” Courfeyrac chirps as he arrives in the kitchen, and his eyes go wide, “ooh, coffee.”

Courfeyrac comes up beside Enjolras, picking up a mug of coffee and leaning over him to grab a sandwich out of the bag. Enjolras grabs the next one and places it in the same spot he put Grantaire’s coffee for R to take.

Finally, Combeferre joins them, and he actually goes over to their dining table, sitting down with his coffee and sandwich, and the other three take the hint and meander over to join him.

\--

“So. Did you know Enjolras is a slut?” Grantaire asks, and Eponine’s eyes go wide. It can be hard to take her by surprise, but Grantaire relishes each time he does.

“Is he?”

“He really is,” Grantaire says.

“Well. Good for you?”

“No, very bad for me. I mean, sure, I could throw myself into the path of his endless conquests, but do you really think that’s a good idea?”

“No, it’s a horrible idea. I assumed, given the way you opened this conversation, you had already made peace with the horribleness of the idea and resolved to do it anyway, because you’re a glutton for punishment.”

Grantaire frowns, but she has a point. It’s been three days since he last went out with his -relatively speaking- new friends.

Truthfully, he’s been hanging around Courfeyrac and Combeferre for months now, and he met Enjolras shortly after. Now he hangs out in the back of all the meetings of their political activist group, the ABC. It’s technically not associated with a university, but it’s populated by mainly students, many of whom are from Combeferre and Enjolras’ respective schools, but also some other graduate students and undergrads alike. Joly has been attending their meetings for a while, knowing Combeferre through the medical program they both attend, and he roped in Bossuet and Musichetta into attending easily. 

“Even I don’t have that level of self-loathing. Or, at least, I’m not there yet. Eponine, if he fucks me like I’m nothing and then I have to face him day after day…”

“Horrible idea,” Eponine asserts. “So. What _is_ the plan?”

“Oh, I don’t have one. I just needed to share this _buckwild_ revelation with someone and, well. I mean. I don’t know if Joly knows Enjolras sleeps around a lot, but eeehh. I don’t know if I want to mention it to him.”

“Right.”

Grantaire thinks, for just a moment. “… _Should_ I throw myself at Enjolras?”

Eponine answers with an emphatic, “No.”

“Obviously,” Grantaire says, then clears his throat.

“I can see why you didn’t want to have this discussion with Joly,” Eponine snorts. “But, if you can prevent it, please don’t throw yourself at Enjolras’ feet and beg him to fuck you.”

“I won’t. Most likely.”

“R. How did this even happen?” Eponine asks, eyes slightly narrowed.

“What?” Grantaire asks, looking mildly affronted.

“When and how did you fall ever so hopelessly in love with _Enjolras_ of all people? I don’t know him _all_ that well, but…” she gestures vaguely.

“Oh, well, that’s quite simple my good woman,” Grantaire straightens his back to explain to her the story, “You see, I met him one afternoon at that dumb little club of his, laid eyes on him once, and he said to me ‘Grantaire, right? I just wanted to let you know I am certifiably the _most_ emotionally unavailable, yet beautiful boy you will ever meet. Nice to make your acquaintance’ and _I_ said ‘oh thank you, sir, and just so you know, I am now irrevocably in love with you, good day.’ And the rest was history.”

Eponine slowly drinks from her plastic straw, until she’s loudly sucking up air. “Right.”

Grantaire waves his hand, “You know what I’m like.”

“Unfortunately, yes. I do.”

“Hey now,” Grantaire feigns a hurt look. “Also… it goes without saying, this, too, stays between us. I mean, I do feel as though some people have caught wind of my, euh, feelings.”

“No? Really?”

“Shut up. Seriously. Just don’t… mention any of this to, y’know-”

“Joly? Or Bousset, or Musichetta?”

“Well, them, yeah. I’ll probably cave and tell Jehan myself, but- you see, those three, they just care too much about my wellbeing. You’re different,” Grantaire explains.

“I’m a shittier friend?” Eponine quirks a brow.

“No, no. It takes all kinds, Eponine. If I need someone to intervene, I’ll ask them. If I need someone who trusts me to fall flat on my face, I got you,” he explains.

“Mhm. My lips are sealed, R,” Eponine insists, and he winks. “Hey?”

“Hm?”

“I know you won’t but… I’m serious, be careful, hm? I’m fairly sure Enj has a good heart, but I get the sense he’s awfully clumsy around others’- if he’s ever even handled someone’s heart before, which,” Eponine gives him a pinched look.

“I know what I’m doing,” Grantaire assures her.

“That does not instill the confidence you might think it does. I also don’t believe you.”

Grantaire sticks his tongue out at her. “Whatever. See you later, Ep.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Dance with me,” Courfeyrac pleads, the glitter on his cheeks catching Grantaire’s eye as he places his shot glass down.

“Kay,” Grantaire says, and he gives Courfeyrac his hand to be pulled through the dining room into the living room.

Every month or so, they take one Friday night off from going out to bars and instead throw a party at the house that has become known as _Chez Les Amis_.

It’s called that because, first of all, literally nobody has time to list the names of the people who live there currently.

Not to mention, the house has actually been home to a number of the wider friend group they all sort of fit into, with people moving in or out or staying there temporarily over the years.

Apparently, the house mandate is ‘Our Home is Your Home’, at least according to Courfeyrac, Marius, Combeferre and Enjolras agree, so, _Chez Les Ami_ it is.

Grantaire is pulled flush to Courfeyrac because there simply isn’t anywhere else for him to go, and they dance to the music.

Combeferre joins them with his hand on Grantaire’s hip, and Grantaire tilts his head back to laugh, then glances to the side. Enjolras places a hand on Courfeyac’s bicep, leaning to yell something Grantaire doesn’t quiet catch.

Grantaire’s eyes follow him anyway, and Enjolras lifts his cup when their gaze meets. Grantaire looks back to Combeferre, who is regarding him… curiously.

Then, Grantaire spots Jehan from the other side. He sees this as an out for himself, so he reaches for them and slips away from Combeferre and Courfeyrac.

“Hey!” Jehan yells, greeting him with a wide smile.

“Sup?” Grantaire yells. Jehan gestures around the two of them, and Grantaire nods.

They dance together, for a few songs, before Jehan yells at Grantaire to suggest they go outside.

They get some air, and catch up. Jehan fills Grantaire in on some new old art books that they got in at the store they work at, a real hole-in-the-wall type place with an awesome selection of interesting and unique books.

“Set that one aside for me,” Grantaire says, about the one Jehan is currently explaining, and Jehan nods.

“Kay,” they say, and then they smile. “How’ve you been?”

“Ugh,” Grantaire waves his hand.

“Enj, huh?”

“Oh, don’t even start.”

“Okay, I won’t,” Jehan laughs. Grantaire just shakes his head.

“Jesus, the lot of you are gossips.”

“You knew that.”

“Still.”

Grantaire just groans, and changes the conversation back to Jehan’s coffeehouse the next Thursday evening. They will be reciting some poetry. Grantaire will have to book it off, because he works most weeknights at the bar, but he wants to go and Musichetta is always way too flexible with his scheduling whims.

The two of them eventually wander back inside, and do some more dancing. Once Jehan gets swept into the crowd, Grantaire joins Courfeyrac again, and then dances with some random people he doesn’t recognize.

“Hey,” Courfeyrac says directly into his ear, as things are starting to wind down. Grantaire glances over at him, perking a brow. “If you wanna stay over, you’re welcome to sleep in my bed.”

Grantaire raises both of his brows, face just a tiny bit warm.

“I normally sleep downstairs, so, um,” Courfeyrac clarifies, and glances Grantaire up and down. Grantaire avoids his gaze for just a second.

“Okay, thanks,” Grantaire nods, and Courfeyrac flashes him a smile.

At the end of the night, Grantaire does, in fact, end up crawling into Courfeyrac’s bed, alone. Earlier in the night he almost swore Courfeyrac was going to suggest he sleep _with_ him and Combeferre, but the two of them went downstairs a bit ago.

His vision swims just a bit when he lies down on his side, and he breathes out for just a moment before he hears a _loud_ moan.

Grantaire’s eyes open widely and he holds his breath until he hears someone call, “Yes, there”. He blinks, almost disbelieving, but he would recognize that voice _anywhere._

Letting out his breath slowly, he picks up Courfeyrac’s pillow and places it over his face as he listens in on Enjolras fucking _some guy_ in the bedroom next to the one Grantaire was about to go to sleep in.

He could move back out to the couch but last he saw, Feuilly was sleeping there, and Jehan was curled up on the chair with a bottle still in hand, and someone he doesn’t know was conked on the loveseat.

Grantaire silently screams into the pillow, but it’s really no use. If he _ever_ stays over again, he’ll have to remember earplugs, or at least headphones, but tonight- there is no drowning out the chorus of beautiful, awful moaning sounds coming from Enjolras in the room next to his.

“Fuck,” Grantaire mutters, once he’s all but certain they’re done. He can only pray they don’t go for a round two.

Truly, there is no fresher hell than listening to the angel you’re in love with getting fucked by some nameless man, but when has Grantaire’s life insinuated it would be anything but a fresh hell?

Mercifully, he’s sure they’re done after a few more minutes pass, and he can finally fall asleep clutching the pillow that he had been trying to smother himself with, to his chest, face red and body tingling uncomfortably.

\--

“Give it up,” Enjolras all but snarls, and Grantaire just smirks, tapping a pen that he hasn’t used once yet this meeting on the table in front of him.

“Give up? Now, that’s not even in the lexicon of revolutionaries like us,” Grantaire says, and he can see the steam pouring from Enjolras’ ears.

“Oh, you don’t truly think-”

“I have been accusing of thinking _on occasion,_ actually.”

“Grantaire,” Enjolras clenches his teeth. “On a good day your attitude is piss poor already-”

“What’s this about pissing on the poor?”

“-But I have _no_ idea what has gotten into you today. So I will _kindly_ request that you pipe down and allow us to move on to the next item on the agenda, or so help me god.”

Grantaire lifts his hands up. “Please, don’t let me stop you from whatever earth-shattering item is next on your little list.”

Enjolras breathes in slowly, and holds his gaze for a heated moment. Then, he looks down at said little list.

Grantaire slumps back in his chair and clicks his pen, placing it tip-down on his page and staring at it, completely tuning out whatever it is that was on the agenda Enjolras’ wanted to get to.

He hadn’t seen Enjolras since the party, and he may not have been adequately prepared for the rush of complex emotions that came with facing him, after hearing Enjolras get so thoroughly fucked by a stranger.

Thank Christ, the meeting isn’t much longer after that. Joly fixes him with a look of concern on the way out, and so does Combeferre. Courfeyrac asks him if he’s interested in getting bubble tea, and while in reality he _is_ interested in bubble tea, he decides to decline.

“Okay, no worries. Are you coming out with us this weekend? No pressure,” Courfeyrac asks, and Grantaire gives a noncommittal shrug.

“I’ll see about it,” he says, before he’s all but accosted by Bossuet’s arm around his shoulder.

“R! It’s been a while,” Bossuet says, pointedly.

“Yeah, yeah,” Grantaire says. With that, Courfeyrac departs with Combeferre, waving their joined hands.

“Chetta told me you’re going to Jehan’s coffeehouse thing. Got a plus one?”

“I do now, I guess,” Grantaire says, fighting the smile coming to his face. That is, until his eyes bulge when Bossuet almost trips over a curb and almost takes Grantaire with him. “Fuck.”

“Oops.”

They take the bus the relatively short distance to the café that the coffeehouse is being hosted in, and grab some seats. The open-mic portion is still a time off yet, and Jehan isn’t even here yet.

“Soooo,” Bossuet starts, lifting up a mug of tea.

Grantaire taps his fingers on the table, and tries to ignore the look Bossuet is giving him. “What?” he asks, once he can’t stand it any longer.

“You’ve been spending an awful lot of time with Cour and Ferre,” Bossuet says, or, half-sings, and Grantaire tilts his head slightly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Bossuet nods. Whatever he’s fishing for, Grantaire isn’t so sure. It’s a weird angle to try to get him to talk about Enjolras, but maybe Bossuet is aiming for creativity points.

They’re silent for one more beat before Bossuet furrows his brows.

“Nothing?”

“What’s nothing? If you’re going to ask me about Enjolras, just do it,” Grantaire rolls his eyes. This time, Bossuet tilts his head.

“Oh,” he says, and Grantaire looks confused. So does Bossuet, but he pivots fairly quickly. “Enjolras, yes, of course. He _is_ pretty,” Bossuet says.

Grantaire scowls, and crosses his arms over his chest. “Pretty stupid if you ask me.”

Bossuet presses his lips together. “Mhmm.”

“Up there, on his high horse, looking down his gorgeous nose. Sweeping his beautiful hair back from his sparkling eyes to glare at those of us who dare question his word.”

“Or dare antagonize his every word on purpose?”

“Same difference.”

“Right,” Bossuet nods. “Nothing else to report?”

“Nah,” Grantaire says, “he fills my every waking thought. Feel free to tell your happy, loving relationship partners who are not pining after someone who hardly gives them the time of day. Keep everyone in the loop.”

“Right,” Bossuet repeats. “So good to catch up with you, my dear old friend.”

Grantaire sighs. “How are Chetta and Joly? I mean.. I see Chetta most days, but, still.”

“They’re doing well, thank you. Med school is a bitch, I hear. Every so often,” Bossuet tells him.

“Better than law school?”

“Ehh, probably worse. I mean, we _do_ hold lives in our hands but not so, um, directly,” Bossuet admits, and Grantaire nods.

“I’ll stick to bartending, thanks very much.”

“Paint anything recently?”

“Just some yellow flowers set to a sky blue backdrop,” Grantaire informs, waving a hand up and about. He takes out his phone and shows Bossuet, who smiles at him.

A few minutes later, Jehan arrives and gives out tight hugs. They ask what’s up, and the other two fill them in on their days, how life has been going generally.

Grantaire has been _trying_ to keep a chin up, but, honestly, it was almost a miracle he pulled himself out of bed this morning when he realized he’d have to see Enjolras.

And, well, it went just about as well as expected, when all was said and done. Neither of them left in tears, so.. it could have been worse, in theory.

They chat until Jehan has to go up and talk to the person running the open mic, and then they quiet down to listen to the first few acts, people singing, playing guitar, and doing spoken word poetry.

Grantaire gives one of his most sincere smiles of the day when Jehan gets up, and everyone snaps for them before they start, then again once their poetry has been read. Bossuet claps Jehan on the shoulder when they sit back down, and they smile and pull their braided hair into their hand while accepting the praise.

At the end of the night, Grantaire goes home to lie down in his room and wonder whether he’ll bother showing up at the club tomorrow.

As awful as his day was, he knows the godforsaken answer to that question already.

\--

Much to his own surprise, he shows up to the club on a certain sort of mission.

He decides, in the end, he’s going to take home someone that _isn’t_ Enjolras. Maybe he can fuck his way out of this desperation for a guy who clearly looks at him with distain.

Grantaire is in tight pants and a loose v-neck, having put on black eyeliner and some lip balm before he left the house. Courfeyrac grins and appreciates his outfit when he arrives, and they go up to get drinks.

Grantaire presses even closer than usual to Courfeyrac, setting the general mood for the night, when they go out to dance the first time. For what it’s worth, Courf seems fairly on board, even with Combeferre to his side.

So, Grantaire is only a little shocked when, after the second round of drinks, Courfeyrac pulls him down by the neck and kisses him.

It’s been a while since he’s done the platonic making out with fellow queer friends, but Grantaire will take it, slipping his hands into Courfeyrac’s back pockets as he sucks his tongue into his mouth. He _has_ to assume it’s okay, because Combeferre is still standing right there.

When they pull back, Courfeyrac grabs Combeferre and kisses him, then pushes him towards Grantaire, who takes one hand from Courfeyrac to plant on Combeferre’s cheek, and they kiss too.

Grantaire grins and laughs, and Courfeyrac kisses him briefly again, before he offers to go get them drinks again.

That _truly_ sets the mood, so afterwards Grantaire downs the next drink, he finds a random man to dance with, and then another. The third, he touches on the chest and the guy is receptive, so Grantaire makes out with him, too.

Grantaire ends up texting Courfeyrac to tell him when he’s leaving, not bothering to specify that it’s with somebody, though he thinks he catches Combeferre’s eye as he’s exiting the door.

He hardly even looked at Enjolras all night, so it was a pretty good evening on _that_ front.

And, Grantaire succeeds in the mission to fuck a random man.

Curiously, he doesn’t feel all that gratified afterwards. Physically, it was fine- but when he shuts his eyes, it’s still Enjolras he thinks of as he falls asleep.

Well, fuck.


	3. Chapter 3

“C’mon, we can do a duet,” Courfeyrac is saying, and Grantaire lifts his cup to his lips, narrowing his eyes over the rim of it.

Courfeyrac, the one always in charge of the party-related decisions, wanted to switch it up this weekend, so they’re sat in a booth at a karaoke bar.

And, oh, Grantaire’s life is truly ruined now. As if it weren’t already.

Enjolras and Combeferre are up on the little stage, belting out the lyrics of some _Taylor Swift_ song. Because “they don’t have sea shanties or work songs, so this is the next best thing”, according to Enjolras.

And Enjolras can fucking sing. As if Grantaire didn’t know _that_ already, he honest-to-god has a beautiful singing voice. Courfeyrac says he was in lessons since childhood but he gave it up not long after starting his undergrad so he’s “a little rusty”.

For what it’s worth, Combeferre also has a nice voice, and they sound damn good together. Grantaire just wants to wallow.

“Please?” Courferyac asks.

“I can’t sing,” Grantaire whines.

“Who cares? Everyone here is wasted. Including us,” Courfeyrac says, placing his hand delicately atop Grantaire’s over the table. Grantaire bites the inside of his cheek, looking at Courfeyrac’s pouting lips and once again catching the glitter on his cheeks.

“Maybe,” Grantaire concedes.

Courfeyrac grins, and Grantaire finishes his drink.

Before long, Grantaire is being pushed further into the booth as Enjolras sits next to him, all sweeping gestures and strong arms. Grantaire begs for mercy.

“Grantaire is going to come sing with me,” Courfeyrac announces.

“Yeah?” Combeferre perks a brow.

“I said _maybe_ ,” Grantaire asserts.

“You should,” Enjolras says, and he honest to _fuck_ put his arm on the back of the booth behind Grantaire’s shoulder. Grantaire wishes the seat would collapse beneath him into a black abyss. It does not.

“Maybe,” Grantaire says one more time.

“I’m going to put our names on the list,” Courfeyrac says, tapping Combeferre’s arm to get him to move out of their side. Grantaire shakes his head, but says nothing to stop him.

“Not having fun?” Enjolras asks, looking at him dead in the eye. Grantaire tears his gaze away from him, and toys with his empty cup wordlessly.

Then, Enjolras takes it from his hand. “I’ll get you a new one.”

“Uh, okay?” he replies, and Enjolras is gone. “What the fuck,” he mouths, and Combeferre just breathes in a laugh.

“You’ll find he’s _much_ better at taking action than small talk,” Combeferre advises, and Grantaire just furrows his brows.

“Fucking weirdo,” he mutters, placing his chin in his own hand and watching a Enjolras leans over the bar to order something. Those jeans should be fucking illegal.

Combeferre glances back, and then bites his lip as he looks at Grantaire. Grantaire’s eyes flick back to him, and he tilts his head once more.

“What?” Grantaire asks.

“Nothing,” Combeferre says, looking back to Enjolras.

Courfeyrac sits back down next to Grantaire and snakes an arm around his shoulders. “The deed is done. We’re up in four.”

“What song did you pick?”

“Do you know _Three_ by Britney Spears?” Courfeyrac asks, smilingly brightly.

“I do, in fact,” Grantaire nods. Courfeyrac turns his smile to Combeferre, and they share a look. Enjolras places a drink down in front of Grantaire before sitting down next to Combeferre.

“What song are you doing?” he asks.

“Three, by Britney Spears,” Courfeyrac turns his grin to Enjolras, then back to Grantaire.

“Interesting choice,” Enjolras says. “I’m partial to Break the Ice. So underrated.”

Grantaire furrows his brows. “Didn’t peg you for a Britney stan.”

“Top 40s are his secret vice,” Combeferre says, straight-faced. Grantaire snorts, and Enjolras rolls his eyes.

“They’re _supposed_ to be catchy,” Enjolras says in his own defense. Grantaire takes a sip from his drink.

“Thanks,” he says, offhandedly, holding up his cup. Enjolras waves him off, then glances behind his shoulder.

Courfeyrac brings the conversation back to music tastes a moment later, repeatedly glancing over to the stage so he can be sure they don’t miss when they need to go up. Grantaire times his drinking so he can finish right before they have to go up on stage, and takes a deep breath.

Courfeyrac holds his hand up onto the stage and they take their mics. The song isn’t meant to be a duet, of course, but it’s split up fairly evenly.

Grantaire may have put up a fuss getting onto the stage, but he isn’t about to do things by half. He brings just as much energy to the song as Courfeyrac himself, or more, even-

The second half of the song has Grantaire glancing over at his friend to smirk, tossing his hair, and singing,

“Let's just do it, you and me… or three, or four.”

Courfeyrac looks back at him with an incredibly convincing heat in his eyes, and a dazzling smile to boot.

People hoot and cheer when they leave the stage, and Grantaire laughs loudly when they climb back into the booth.

“You were good,” Enjolras says, eyes bright.

“Hold your shock and awe,” Grantaire says, this time throwing his arm around Courfeyrac. Courfeyrac nestles underneath it and claps his hands.

“You _were_ good. I can’t believe you said you can’t sing,” Courfeyrac tells him.

Grantaire rolls his eyes, “Psh, whatever.”

“Well _I_ had fun,” Courfeyrac holds his head high, and Combeferre takes a long drink from his cup.

They chat for a few more minutes, before Enjolras gets up and disappears again.

“Honestly… I don’t hate it,” Grantaire admits.

“Singing?”

“Being at karaoke.”

Courfeyrac laughs loudly. “Well gee, I’m glad.” Grantaire just shakes his shoulder. “I was thinking, maybe next month we can go to one of those pool places instead. Might be nice to do something more lowkey for once in our whole lives.”

“I’d be down,” Grantaire says.

“Yeah?” Combeferre asks, and he nods.

Then, Enjolras returns, a stranger with even fairer hair in tow.

“Hey,” he says, and Combeferre shoves all the way over so they can sit down. He says something in Combeferre’s ear, then announces, “this is Henri.”

“Hey,” Courfeyrac says, and Grantaire lifts a hand.

Combeferre pushes the conversation forward and mentions playing pool to Enjolras, who gives a neutral agreement. Henri is looped into the conversation by Courfeyrac, but as soon as Enjolras finishes his drink, the two of them get up.

“I’m heading out,” Enjolras says, and the other three nod.

“Kay, see you at home,” Courfeyrac says, and Enjolras nods.

Grantaire notices that he’s clenching his jaw, and works to unclench it.

Enjolras disappears with the other hot blonde boy, and Grantaire slowly removes his arm from Courfeyrac’s shoulder. Courf looks at him, but Grantaire is staring off into the distance, thoughtful.

“Oh my god, I would kill for pizza,” Courfeyrac says.

“There’s a place that sells slices across the street,” Combeferre points out, and Grantaire makes a thoughtful face.

“On y vas,” Grantaire announces, and Courfeyrac smiles again.

They all climb out of the booth, and Courfeyrac hooks his elbows in Grantaire’s and Combeferre’s. Then, they make their way over to the pizza place. It has barely enough standing room for four people on the inside, and there’s a line. So, when Combeferre offers to go in for all of them, the other two stand to the side. 

It’s not _that_ cold even being late fall, but Courfeyrac is in nothing but a thin jacket, loose tank top, and ripped jeans with fishnet underneath, so he eventually starts to shiver. Grantaire take pity and wraps his arms around Courfeyrac’s, and Courfeyrac leans into the embrace.

“You’re so nice,” Courfeyrac coos.

Grantaire snorts, “Haven’t been accused of that one before.”

“Psh,” Courfeyrac says. “Of course you’re nice.”

“I have my moments,” Grantaire allows, and Courfeyrac nods firmly.

“You going back to your place after this?” Courfeyrac asks, and Grantaire hums.

“I dunno, I guess?”

“You’re always welcome to sleep over. We can have pancakes in the morning,” Courfeyrac says, and Grantaire thinks.

If he sleeps over, he’ll be subjected to hearing Enjolras fuck someone again- but he might get to see him in the morning, and the last time he stayed for breakfast it was actually quite nice. It’s a bad decision, either way, but he’s so tempted anyway.

“Oh, but the night is still young,” Grantaire says. “I kinda wanna go dancing,” he half-lies. Courfeyrac pulls back enough to look at him.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah,” Grantaire says. Courfeyrac hums.

“We can go dancing,” he says slowly.

Grantaire grins.

Combeferre returns with their pizza and Courfeyrac informs him they want to go dancing.

Combeferre is less convinced, fully tired now that they’re out of the hustle and bustle of the karaoke bar, but eventually he relents.

Once they’re at the club, Grantaire makes it his mission to _actually_ get fucked up, and he succeeds.

Unfortunately, being super drunk leads him to make the ill-advised decision to go back to Chez Les Amis, which was what he was avoiding doing in the first place.

“Holy fuck,” Grantaire mutters as they’re all trying to get their shoes off in the landing space.

“I’m way too drunk,” Courfeyrac mumbles, and Combeferre laughs, although it doesn’t hold a ton of humor.

“You gonna sleep upstairs?” Combeferre asks, and Grantaire nods.

“Where else?”

“I mean, you could snuggle up close with us,” Courfeyrac says with a giggle, and Grantaire just laughs.

“You’re cute,” he says. “There’s no way your bed fits three.”

“I mean, we could make it work,” Combeferre says, but Grantaire shakes his head.

“No point in making you squish when there’s a free bed,” Grantaire furrows his brows, “and a couch.”

“Kay. G’night,” Courfeyrac says, wrapping his arms around Grantaire. Grantaire hugs him tight, and then Combeferre, before trailing back up the stairs.

He doesn’t hear any moaning or groaning when he gets there, so he thanks any God that might exist.

Unfortunately for him, the morning is another question entirely.

Grantaire wakes earlier than he wishes, to sounds of loud sighs and quiet moaning.

He wants to shriek.

Instead, he flips onto his back and presses his hands into his eyes, though that does nothing to quiet down Enjolras’ gasping and groaning.

If God could smite him where he lay, he would welcome it.

He can’t fully make out which noise is coming from what guy, but, especially this early in the morning- fuck, it’s doing something to him and he _loathes_ it with every fibre of his being.

Someone’s breath hitches and he’s 99% sure it’s Enjolras. While they may not have fucked, he knows Enjolras’ voice well. It runs through his head and wraps around his heart on a daily basis, after all.

Grantaire bites down on his lip and slides one of his hands down his stomach. He’s almost can’t believe what he’s about to do but- yes, of course he can.

He hears Enjolras moan from the other room as he takes his cock in his hand and strokes, biting down a quiet sigh of his own. Clearly the walls are thin, so he _cannot_ make noise, and he won’t. He presses his lips together and plays with his cock, shutting his eyes and trying to focus on Enjolras’ voice specifically.

Seems like the other guy is quiet, because Grantaire is pretty sure most of the moaning is coming from Enj, which is just as well for him. It’s already filthy enough just listening in, so he tries not to think of what it would be like to be the one making Enjolras moan- that would just be too much.

Grantaire cums before too long and he feels bad, momentarily, for defiling Courfeyrac’s bed in such a way.

Not that he ever sleeps in it, anyway.

Grantaire grabs some tissues, and then shoves himself back into his pants and darts out into the hall towards the bathroom.

Grantaire uses the toilet, then runs the water ice cold to wash his hands, and then splash onto his face. He feels sick, though that could very well be copious amount of the alcohol he drank last night. He scoops some water into his mouth and swallows it down, then pulls his hair back from his face and breathes in, deep and painful.

Shutting off the tap, Grantaire turns to leave the bathroom.

As he steps out, though, he gets a faceful of Enjolras’ chest.

Of course.

“Sorry,” Enjolras says, placing a warm hand on Grantaire’s shoulder. Grantaire flinches. “Sorry,” he repeats, genuine distress flashing on his face.

Enjolras is in nothing but a pair of black, silky boxers. Because God exists, and she hates Grantaire with a passion.

“It’s fine,” Grantaire holds his hands up, “you just scared the shit out of me. It’s, like, 6am.”

“Right,” Enjolras says, “Sorry.”

“Shut up,” Grantaire mutters, and then he steps out of the way and starts towards Courfeyrac’s room.

“See you later,” Enjolras stage whispers, and Grantaire looks back at him with confusion on his face.

“Yeah. Going back to bed,” Grantaire says, sticking his thumb towards the room.

“Sleep well,” Enjolras nods, and then finally he steps into the bathroom, and Grantaire walks past Enjolras’ open door to see a naked guy lounging. Just to add insult to injury, on a cosmic level.

Grantaire flops back onto Courfeyrac’s bed and holds a pillow over his head again. He should have just gone to sleep with Cour and ferre.

Being a little squished is nothing compared to this burning, aching hell.


	4. Chapter 4

“Wait, the sugar goes in with the wet ingredients? But it’s… not wet,” Enjolras tilts his head, staring down at the recipe card that Grantaire arrived with.

Grantaire breathes in a laugh through his nose, “Yes, sugar is a wet ingredient in a lot of baking recipes. It’s all about how it comes together. It probably won’t work if you add it in with the dry.”

“Well. I’m sure that didn’t help my last cake attempt,” Enjolras mutters, and Grantaire laughs at him again.

“C’mon,” Grantaire says, plucking the recipe from Enjolras hand. “How about you just do what I tell you, since I’m the one who knows what he’s doing?”

“Fine,” Enjolras says.

“Great. Go mix together the sugar and the butter, I’ll start mixing the dry ingredients,” Grantaire says, and Enjolras takes a knife to cut the amount of already softened butter they need, and then uses a fork press it together with the sugar. 

“Thanks for helping out. Usually, I would bug Ferre into doing it,” Enjolras says conversationally. 

Combeferre and Courfeyrac are taking an overnight trip in a different city and won’t be back until later, with it being a Holiday Monday. In the meanwhile, Grantaire has been recruited by Enjolras to help him with some baking for a fundraiser being held on one of the university campuses on Tuesday.

“We should put some pot in these,” Grantaire suggests, and he glances just in time to see Enjolras’ pretty eyes roll back into his skull. Grantaire snorts.

“We aren’t drugging a bunch of students, R.”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!”

“Besides, I don’t _have_ any weed, and somehow I doubt you would want to share yours with tons of strangers?”

“That’s a fair point. Also, we can’t just throw weed into any recipe with wild abandon, for the record, but, seriously- you don’t have any weed?”

Enjolras quirks a brow. “No? I don’t really smoke much.”

“Huh,” Grantaire says. “In that case, you should really do it more often, you could use the chill,” Grantaire asserts, cracking the eggs into his batter directly. “Pass me the sugar butter.”

Enjolras hands him what he requested, “I have no desire to be more chill.”

Grantaire shakes his head, “Honestly? That’s the most _you_ thing you’ve ever said.”

“Are you certain? I say a lot of things,” Enjolras counters, and Grantaire glances over to see a playful little smile on his face. Grantaire looks back at his batter and dumps the butter in, willing his cheeks not to burn as he smirks to himself.

“That you do, Enj. Can you also grease the pan?”

“Aye aye,” Enjolras says, and he goes over to do so as the oven beeps. When the pan is greased, Grantaire brings over the batter and pours it in, using a spatula to scrape as much batter out as he can.

Before he can put the bowl down, Enjolras slides his finger along some of the batter Grantaire gave up on, and then sticks it into his mouth. Grantaire watches him, and their eyes lock for a moment.

“That has raw eggs in it,” Grantaire blurts out, because he has to say _something_.

“I like to live on the edge,” Enjolras retorts, no inkling of humor in his voice.

Grantaire has no idea how to respond to that, so looks away and places the bowl down on the counter, and then Enjolras takes the pan to slide it into the oven.

“How long should I set the timer?” Enjolras asks, and Grantaire looks back down at the recipe card, then tells him 10 minutes.

It’s an awkward amount of time to stand there, but Enjolras just picks up the bowl and scoops the rest of the batter off with his fingers. In order to not stare at him, Grantaire licks the spatula once before rinsing it in the sink and then starts piling the other bowls and utensils they used for baking so he can wash them.

“You don’t have to do that,” Enjolras says, coming up to his side. “You don’t even live here, and you’re my guest.”

“Thought this was Chez Les Amis. Am I not a friend?”

“Well, you are, but, still. You don’t have to wash the dishes,” Enjolras insists.

“Fine,” Grantaire says, leaving the pile in the sink and turning to lean against the counter this time.

“Oh,” Enjolras says, and then he moves next to Grantaire again, “check out this 6-minute video essay, it’s amazingly argued.”

With that, he holds up his phone and Grantaire leans a little closer to see it, and watch the stupid little impeccably-done video that has Enjolras so hot and bothered.

As soon as the video is over, Enjolras launches into explaining _why_ it was so artful, while also pointing out the flaws, until the timer beeps and Grantaire removes their brownies from the oven to cool. 

He’s _very_ tempted to say something stupid about the video Enjolras is ranting about but, for once, he holds his tongue, and they soob go to sit on the couch, until Enjolras eventually quits talking about the video, and they decide to watch a movie instead.

Grantaire isn’t sure if he’s ever spent this long alone with Enjolras, and judging by the fact they didn’t come anywhere close to killing each other, he would consider it a resounding success.

At the end of the evening, Enjolras even walks Grantaire to the door.

“So are you still good for tomorrow?” Enjolras asks him, leaning on the doorframe, basked in light from the hallway as Grantaire stands just outside in the dark.

“Yep, said I’d be there.”

“Okay, just checking. See you then,” Enjolras nods firmly. “Thanks again, R. G’night.”

“Bye,” Grantaire says, waving, and then turning around to walk to the nearest bus stop.

\--

The next day finds Grantaire seated in the centre of the university campus next to Enjolras, plentiful baked goods spread out in front of them.

There was a between-class rush just a few minutes ago, and they’ll be winding down for the afternoon pretty soon, but they want to wait for the stragglers.

Now, Grantaire and Enjolras are back to arguing about some student policy Enjolras saw advertised on their way in, and every few minutes Enjolras pulls out his phone to look up citations for what he’s saying. After about a minute of that, Grantaire grabs it from him to search for something that might prove Enjolras wrong with a not-super-great success rate, but he finds more than he thought he would.

“I know I actually read an article on this somewhere,” Grantaire groans, scrolling down Enjolras’ screen with the other man’s breath on his cheek.

“Perhaps you’re misremembering the phrasing?” Enjolras suggests, and Grantaire clicks his tongue.

They don’t find out, because a moment later, they hear a tap on the table in front of them, and then,

“Hey, any of these have pot in ‘em?”

“Excuse me?” Enjolras says, and Grantaire laughs.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Grantaire asks, and Gavroche smiles cheekily.

“Meeting up with Azelma,” he shrugs. “Come on, R, don’t hold out on me, at least one of things has to be a weed brownie, we’re at a college,” he tries again, and Enjolras furrows his brow.

“Aren’t you a little young to smoke weed? What are you, 14?” Enjolras says, glancing between Gavroche and Grantaire with some genuine concern.

“I’m 11, so shut the fuck up,” Gavroche replies without missing a beat, and Enjolras just looks more confused.

“He’s 15,” Grantaire clarifies, “and he’s a little punk. Speaking of, regretfully Enjolras wouldn’t let me put weed in anything, sorry.”

“Weak,” Gavroche says, and Enjolras looks mildly offended.

“Do people still say that?” Grantaire muses.

“I like to stay ahead of the trends- we’re due for a meme revival. A meme renaissance, even,” Gavroche explains.

Enjolras looks off into the distance with a puzzled look on his face as Gavroche and Grantaire chat, and Gavroche eventually buys a couple cookies and a brownie, then waves before heading out.

“He.. doesn’t really smoke weed, does he?”

Grantaire shrugs his shoulders, “Beats me. I might have smoked weed at 15. I had definitely been drunk at least once by that age.”

Enjolras shakes his head, “That is… not great.”

“I mean, I turned out fine,” Grantaire says, and then looks at Enjolras and dares him to say something to counter that.

“Alcohol is still bad for brain development,” Enjolras says slowly, “and I’m sure weed isn’t _good_ for it.”

“I mean, if a kid is _routinely_ drinking and smoking at 15, the substances are probably actually the least of their worries,” Grantaire points out, and Enjolras thinks on that.

“You have a point. Although some people are more prone to addiction, I suppose so-called problematic habits are rarely born out of a physical experience alone, generally it comes back to society and circumstance.”

“Like everything?” Grantaire deadpans.

“Exactly!” Enjolras smiles for just a second. Grantaire hates his own heart for how it flutters.

After another 20 minutes of musing and mild debate on the state of _society_ and the role it plays in “literally everything”, they start to pack up.

“Hey, Enj?” Grantaire says, holding something behind his back as Enjolras stacks some of the Tupperware into canvas bags.

“Hm?”

“I got you a present,” Grantaire says, smiling coyly.

“Oh?” Enjolras tilts his head.

Grantaire holds out one of the vegan cookies Bossuet made. He’d snatched it earlier and dropped money in the bucket when Enjolras wasn’t looking.

Enjolras laughs for just a moment. “Gee, thank you,” he says, but he takes off the plastic wrap and sticks it in his mouth as they move to finish packing things up.

Grantaire helps Enjolras carry everything to Marius’ car, and then declines the offer for a ride. He’s going to hang out with Joly for an hour before his shift, and the med school is pretty close.

“Thanks again,” Enjolras says, his hand on the doorhandle of the car. “Are you coming over Friday?”

“House party?”

Enjolras nods.

“Yeah, probably,” Grantaire says with a shrug.

“See you then,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire is on his way with one last wave.

\--

“Come play beer pong,” Courfeyrac demands, draping his arms over Grantaire’s shoulders.

“Be right there,” Grantaire says, patting Musichetta on the knee as Courfeyrac lets him go so he can stand.

“I want next round,” Chetta says, lifting her cup. Grantaire nods, and follows Courfeyrac the short distance from the couch to the dining room table in the relatively small Chez Les Amis.

Turns out they’re going to be playing Enjolras and Marius, and Grantaire was ill-prepared to be greeted with Enjolras saying,

“You two fingering, or blowing?”

Grantaire blinks as Courfeyrac fixes him with a salacious grin and says, “Fingering is way easier. I would know.”

“Guess we’ll blow,” Enjolras says, and Marius whines.

“Bet you’re good at that, Enj,” Courfeyrac says, and Grantaire is glad he was not mid-drink because he would have choked.

He could have guessed it, but _still_. Enjolras just laughs and blushes a little bit.

“You first, boo,” Courfeyrac bumps Grantaire’s shoulder, and he picks up the balls.

“Grantaire,” Enjolras says slowly, glancing him up and down.

“What?”

“Don’t mess up,” Enjolras says, smirking. Grantaire scoffs.

“Don’t let him get into your head, baby, you got this,” Courfeyrac says, and Grantaire nods, then takes aim.

He misses his first shot, but gets it in on the next one.

“Yes!” he hisses. Enjolras snaps his fingers, and both he and Marius drink. They remove the cup.

It’s Marius’s turn next, and Courfeyrac sings something at him in an attempt to distract him. Grantaire can’t tell if it works, or if Marius is just simply not that great at beer pong, but he doesn’t get one in.

“Shake it off,” Enjolras tells him, and Courfeyrac picks up the balls.

“Oh,” he says, “wanna blow on ‘em for good luck?” he asks Grantaire, and Grantaire laughs, but leans in and does as Courfeyrac asked.

“You got this,” Grantaire says, and then he smacks Courfeyrac on the hip.

“Courfeyrac,” Enjolras says, in that same slow voice. He smiles, dazzling, and quirks his brow.

“Oh honey boo, you know I’ve been immune to _that_ look for years,” Courfeyrac tells him.

“Guess I’ll have to try harder,” Enjolras winks.

“Guess you will,” Courfeyrac sticks out his tongue in response, and then takes aim.

He _almost_ gets the ball in on the first try, but Enjolras blows it out of the cup. “Dammit,” Courfeyrac mutters.

He just misses the second one, too, but Grantaire squeezes his shoulder and tells him it’s still early in the game.

They continue back and fourth with their banter and attempted distractions, barring Marius who looks more and more vaguely miserable the longer the game goes on. Although whether that’s because of the three very queer men aggressively flirting with one another, or because he has only got the ball in the cup _once_ , is unknown.

In the end, Grantaire and Courfeyrac win, and they share a tight hug and laugh in the face of Enjolras and Marius’ defeat.

“Good game,” Enjolras says.

“Musichetta said she wanted to play next,” Grantaire says.

“I’ll go find her, I suck at this anyway,” Marius scoffs, and the other three get to re-setting the table with the cups before Enjolras claps Grantaire on the shoulder and takes off as well.

Musichetta arrives with Eponine in tow and they face off against Courfeyrac and Grantaire. It’s a closer game than before, with the girls reigning supreme. Then, another couple partygoers step up to try to beat them as Courfeyrac pulls Grantaire back into the living room to dance with him.

They meet Combeferre and Enjolras back in the little crowd of dancers, and Jehan quickly flits to them as well, and they dance together.

At some point, Grantaire is squished between Courfeyrac and Enjolras. It’s both surprisingly pleasant, and also a sweet hell at the same time, with Courfeyrac’s hands on his hips from behind and Enjolras shaking his hair out and then glancing down at him to smile.

Grantaire looks back up at him before turning his head, and then leaning into Courfeyrac until the song changes over and they shuffle with the crowd.

Eventually, Grantaire does escape to get a drink, but Enjolras follows him out and pours a glass of water, giving Grantaire an update on the next steps he’s putting in place for some climate event coming up.

This leads Grantaire to cracks some stupid joke about global warming and it being hot in here, and Enjolras just shakes his head.

“You’re hilarious,” Enjolras says, voice and face completely serious.

“Yeah, shoulda been a comedian,” Grantaire rolls his eyes.

“I bet you could if you really wanted to,” Enjolras nudges him with his elbow. “Catch you later, R,” he says, and then he takes off to weave back into the crowd.

Grantaire finds Musichetta with Bossuet on her lap and squeezes in next to them, although there really isn’t much room left on the couch. But, hey, he’s starting to feel like he really _is_ one of the so-called Amis that the house belongs to, so whatever random person is sitting there can get fucked.

They talk for a while, until Grantaire finishes his drink and Bossuet takes off to talk to Bahorel in the dining room. Beer pong has been completely abandoned.

Sometime late into the night, the party winds down, and the stragglers left behind are probably going to end up sleeping over. Jehan grabs a blanket and curls up on the chair they usually steal at house parties, and are only roused when the few of them left decide to order pizza.

Once the pizza has been eaten, Combeferre announces he’s going downstairs to bed, and Courfeyrac glances at Grantaire for just a moment before saying he’s going too. Eponine is hanging off the loveseat, and Bahroel and Feuilly have managed to fit themselves on opposite ends of the couch, so Grantaire wanders down the hall and falls onto what was formerly known as Courfeyrac’s bed.

The show is already starting by the time Grantaire throws his shirt and jeans onto the floor, overhearing Enjolras moan loudly and then gasp from the room next to him.

Grantaire considers getting off to it again, but he’s a little drunker than usual, and the mood is totally ruined when he hears Enjolras cry out “Henri” in the middle of a moan.

Holding the pillow tightly over his head doesn’t fully drown out the noise, but it helps enough.

Grantaire longs for the sweet release of death. It doesn’t come- but he hears Enjolras get some sort of sweet release within the next 15 minutes or so.

At least one of them is happy.

Grantaire flips onto his back and holds the pillow, staring up at the ceiling for an undetermined amount of time, and then reaching for his phone to scroll through a social media.

When the door creeks open, Grantaire fumbles his phone and then hisses, “Jesus Christ.”

“Shit,” he hears, and then he sits up, pushing his loose hair back from his face.

Enjolras is peaking his head through the door, looking mildly bewildered.

“What the fuck do you want?” Grantaire hisses.

Enjolras purses his lips, glances behind him, and then steps into the room. He’s in nothing but silky red boxers and Grantaire, again, wishes for death. “Sorry,” he stage whispers.

Grantaire stares at him, and waits for an explanation.

“I forgot you would be in here,” Enjolras starts, and Grantaire glares weakly. He’s been in here more weekends than not, lately. “I didn’t mean to disturb you, I’ll just go.”

“Oh fuck no, bud. You best tell me why you’re interrupting my beauty sleep and trying to sneak into _Courfeyrac_ ’s bedroom. Don’t tell me all that beer pong flirting really got to you?” Grantaire bulges his eyes, and Enjolras presses his lips together.

“Courfeyrac has been sleeping downstairs for, like, a full year now,” Enjolras defends. “It’s just-” Enjolras glances back out the slightly ajar door again, “usually, if I have a guy over more than once, I won’t sleep in my bed with him if he stays over.”

“Come again?” interesting word choice, there. Grantaire wants to wince, or to add “probably too soon for that though”, but he manages to keep his lips shut and face level. 

Enjolras takes a few more steps into the room and sits on the edge of the bed. “Ugh, it’s just. I have rules for- for sexual interactions,” he explains.

“Excuse me?” Grantaire knits his brows, though he does remember Combeferre mentioning this before.

“I don’t want to get attached to hookups, and I don’t want them to get attached to me,” Enjolras explains with a sigh. “I try not to sleep with the same guy too many times, and if I do sleep with the same guy, I at least try not to _sleep_ with him, in the same bed. I used to crash in here, or on the couch, but last I saw that was occupied.”

“There are like four people in the living room,” Grantaire confirms.

“Dammit. Maybe I can crash on Courferre. Unless they’re actively fucking,” he mutters, and Grantaire snorts. Enjolras just shrugs at him. “It’s fine. Sleeping next to a man _once_ won’t kill me,” Enjolras decides, and he stands up.

Grantaire bites his lip, and makes a very stupid split-second decision. “Wait.”

“Hm?”

“Just- you can fucking sleep in here. The bed is obviously big enough for two, and it’s not like you and I are porking.”

“Do you really have to call it that?” Enjolras asks.

“Do you want to sleep in here or not?” Grantaire counters, no hesitation.

Enjolras glances at the door, and then goes to it. Grantaire is almost offended that he didn’t get a verbal answer, but Enjolras is shutting the door, and then striding back over to the side of the bed. Grantaire shuffles just a bit to his side, and Enjolras lifts the covers.

Grantaire lies back down, his mind utterly buzzing.

“Thanks, R,” Enjolras says through a yawn. Now that he’s close, Enjolras _smells_ like sex, which is something Grantaire hadn’t taken into account when he was making his dumb, stupid, idiotic little decision.

“Eh, whatever,” Grantaire says, flipping onto his side. Enjolras is facing the wall, the blankets pulled all the way up to his chin. At least Grantaire can hardly see him in the dark, but…

Fuck.


	5. Chapter 5

“So… you would like to know about the details of my sex life?” Enjolras asks, adjusting his scarf around his neck.

Grantaire lets out a hoot. “Oh, honey. I know more than I ought to about the details of your sex life. I sleep in the room next to yours, like, most Friday nights.”

Enjolras presses his lips together, and for a second his cheeks match the bright red of his scarf.

They’re seated outside a café, where they happened to bump into each other and agreed to sit and chat. where Grantaire decided he might as well confront Enjolras with the many, many questions he still has about his sex rules.

“I am not ashamed of that,” Enjolras starts, and Grantaire smirks, “but I will admit it’s a bit embarrassing to acknowledge, and I will also say I am at least kind of sorry. I’m aware I can get a _little_ loud.”

“A _little?”_ Grantaire bulks, and Enjolras glares at him.

“As I said, I’m not ashamed,” Enjolras holds his head up high. “So, what is you even want to know if you are already so well-acquainted with my sex life?”

“First of all. What? Second of all, why? And third of all, how,” Grantaire says, counting off his fingers. “Combeferre told me you had system, and you yourself brought up your ‘rules’ on Friday,” Grantaire waves his hand, “whatever the fuck that means. What is that all about?”

“Oh, that,” Enjolras says, waving his own hand this time. “Well, it’s quite simple.”

“Please, enlighten me,” Grantaire requests, and Enjolras sits up straighter.

“As you know, I am very busy. So, I have a system in place to meet men and have sex without running the risk of too much romantic attachment or distraction.”

Grantaire lifts his chin this time, “Says the certifiably insane man, got it.”

“Don't be ableist.”

“I’ve been diagnosed with clinical depression, I can say crazy if I want to.”

“In reference to yourself, perhaps,” Enjolras narrows his eyes. “Do you want to hear about my sex system or not?”

“…Do go on,” Grantaire purses his lips and waves his hand, forward and inviting this time.

“Every week, I go on dating apps, you know, grindr, the usual. On Monday through Thursday, I take some time in the evening to message guys that have their profiles filled out, give a polite introduction, and then explain that I’m down to fuck and not looking for anything serious. I ask if they’re game, if they say yes, I ask them when they were most recently tested for STIs and request their results. I also share mine.”

“You do not fucking do that.”

“Of course I do,” Enjolras scoffs. “Safe sex is no joke.”

Grantaire just pulls a face, “Anyway. What comes next? I assume _you_ don’t get to come yet in the process.”

Enjolras straight up ignores his second comment to continue on, “If they offer an adequate response, I tell them I’m going to be at whatever club we’re going to on Friday night, and then tell them to find me if they happen to be there. Then, if they do show up, we dance, and I take someone home. And you know very well what happens then.”

Grantaire shakes his head, “You’re crazy. So what’s this about the rules, then?”

“Oh, right. Well, the rules are more about safe sex practices and mostly curbing the likelihood of romantic attachment,” Enjolras says. Grantaire wants to shake him and tell him to stop talking like a robot for five seconds.

“What are they?” Grantaire asks, and Enjolras picks up his phone, opening some notes.

“1. Always use condoms, even with oral,” Enjolras reads aloud, and Grantaire snorts. “2. Try not to sleep with the same guy more than three times. 3. If you sleep with the same man twice and he sleeps over, go sleep somewhere else so he doesn’t get the wrong idea. 4. No face to face sex. 5. Only use his name if he explicitly asks. 6. Limit the use of pet names, as in, baby, you know. 7. Be wary of too much kissing.”

“You are literally a psychopath,” Grantaire states, and Enjolras glares at him, ice cold.

“Grantaire, quit using stigmatizing language.”

“Fine,” Grantaire rolls his eyes. “It’s just… Jesus Christ, Enjolras. Only you could take something so primal as sex and make it so… clinical, and complicated, all while still being a huge slut about it.”

Enjolras places a hand on his chest, “I’m not a slut.”

Grantaire raises his brows, smirking wide, “Are you insinuating there’s something shameful about being a slut? I’m just stating matter of fact, no judgement.”

Enjolras scoffs, “Well, I was operating under the assumption _you_ meant it to be shameful. Perhaps I am a slut, there is nothing wrong with that.”

“You _are_ a slut. But, hey you’ve got to be the most efficient slut I’ve ever met,” Grantaire says, and Enjolras gives him his patented mildly disapproving look yet again.

“My methods are quite efficient, yes. In fact, there are hardly any downsides at all.”

“Are there _any_ downsides?”

“I suppose the only real downside is, when you only sleep with someone once or twice you never quite get to know what they like, and, in turn, they don’t get to know what you like either. But, it’s not worth the risk of personal attachment, even if it leads to somewhat bland sex after a while.”

“Hm,” Grantaire lifts his chin. “Guess you don’t get to try anything too new or exciting, either?”

“Not _so_ much. Some men are very forward, I tend to err on the side of not bringing up anything too wild to complete strangers,” Enjolras admits.

“Interesting place to draw the line,” Grantaire snorts, and Enjolras shrugs.

“In my defense, I need to strike some balance between the inherent vulnerability of sex at all, and not letting myself get too vulnerable. That would be counter to my system and my goals.”

At that, Grantaire laughs, which is probably sort of mean. “You’re such a fucking weirdo.”

Enjolras shrugs, “I’ve been called worse. By you, personally, in fact.”

“Yeahhh, that’s objectively true,” Grantaire agrees. Then, Enjolras glances down at his phone.

“Well, if you have any further questions about my sex life, you’ll have to schedule another coffee break with me. I need to get going,” he says. Grantaire thinks that should be a joke, but he assumes Enjolras is dead serious in his statement.

“Sure thing, slut. See you around.”

“Do not just call me that,” Enjolras mutters, and then he’s on his way.

Grantaire finishes his coffee and sits for a while, processing everything he just heard.

Enjolras is a weirdo, and definitely some flavor of insane, but Grantaire already knew that. Still. This is all just so _buckwild_.

Unfortunately for him, the gears are now turning in his mind, and they cannot be stopped.

Enjolras said some pretty interesting things in their conversation. Namely, he doesn’t want to get attached, but he seems a little tired of always hooking up with different men. He even called the sex _bland_ (which Grantaire could never have guessed based on what he’s heard, but, ignoring that) which is… intriguing.

Before he knows it, he has a plan in mind, and it is just oh _so_ likely to blow up in his face.

He’s probably going to do it anyway, though.

During his shift at the bar later on, he gets a novel-length text from Enjolras about some wealth inequality thing he mentioned at the last meeting. Grantaire says something flippant back, and then says,

> **tbh i DO wanna keep talking about sex are you free tomorrow**

When Grantaire checks his phone again twenty minutes later, his text from Enjolras says,

<< **Regrettably I have an assignment due tomorrow evening that I will need to review, and then we have the aforementioned event on Friday before we go out to the club.  
** << **But when was the last time you got tested for STIs? Do you want to come with me on Saturday? Perhaps we could talk more there.**

Grantaire snorts at his phone and puts it back down, and mulls over his answer. After his shift he says,

> **fine ill come get tested with you. what a cute fucking date**

Enjolras gets back to him right away,

<< **I agree, it would be a cute date. Safe sex is always cute.  
** << **If you stay over on Friday we can just go together in the afternoon. Oh, and I can ask Combeferre if you can crash with him so you don’t have to deal with the noise (should that become a problem like it usually does)**

Grantaire shakes his head.

> **dont worry your pretty head about that. ill be fine.**

<< **Okay. Goodnight, R.**

> **Night Enj**

With that, Grantaire falls asleep, but not before beating off to the imagined sounds of Enjolras’ moaning.

\--

Friday night goes how every other Friday night goes, and for some godforsaken reason Grantaire goes home with Courfeyrac and Combeferre, again only to wind up listening to Enjolras’ screaming, as promised.

He’s _almost_ asleep when Grantaire hears a quiet knocking at his door. He sits up and mutters “what?” as if he could be heard.

The door cracks open, and Enjolras is there in jewel-tone purple boxers this time. “Can I sleep with you again?” he asks. No beating around the bush.

“Ugh, fuck. Sure,” Grantaire says, lying back down, and Enjolras shuts the door and scampers into bed with him.

“Thanks,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire just waves his hand. “Sleep well, R.”

Fat chance of that, Grantaire thinks.

But then he’s blinking his eyes and there’s some sunlight filtering in through the cracks in Corufeyrac’s blinds as he wakes from his however many hours of sleep.

“Good morning,” he hears. Grantaire startles and looks over. Enjolras is lying next to him, looking, well… less like an angel and more like death.

“You have like, _designer,_ eye bags. You know that, right?” Grantaire asks. Enjolras snorts.

“I’m well aware,” Enjolras rubs his eye and prods at his skin. “Prioritizing literally anything over sleep will do that.”

Grantaire isn’t sure how he didn’t notice it last time. Enjolras runs a hand through his mostly-flattened curls and sighs.

“I’m sure you know that well, by the looks of _your_ eyes,” Enjolras teases, and Grantaire shrugs.

“It’s a look,” he says, and Enjolras nods. “I just never noticed them on you.”

“I use concealer,” Enjolras confesses, then heaves a sigh, “I know vanity is a bit stupid, and I don’t _believe_ there should be any value attached to a person’s looks at all, but societal expectations can be quite overbearing.”

“Damn. Definitely wouldn’t have expected you, of all people, to cow to beauty industries’ ideals,” Grantaire admits back to him. He’s also still reeling from the shock of the discovery that Enjolras doesn’t, in fact, look like utter perfection every moment of every day. Of course, tired and a little disheveled still looks beautiful on him, it’s just… he’s not truly chiselled in marble, not static or frozen in time, he’s as human as the rest of them. It’s an earth-shattering revelation.

“It’s not ‘becoming’ of a lawyer- so by extension, a law student- to look as tired as they’re required to be in order to do their job,” Enjolras explains. “I fear I won’t be taken seriously enough if I don’t look the part. And I am a tiny bit vain…”

Grantaire chuckles, “Well, you deserve to be.”

Enjolras gives him a little smile and Grantaire presses his lips together, then rolls onto his back and sits up.

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” Grantaire starts, picking up his jeans from the floor to put them on before he heads to the bathroom. He doesn’t bother with his shirt.

“Wait,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire turns to look at him. He’s sitting up, the blankets pooled at his waist, fluffing his hair with a hand.

“What, slut?”

Enjolras pulls a little face, “If you’re leaving the room could you try to see if Henri is still here?”

Grantaire blinks at him. He cannot be serious, but Grantaire has never known Enjolras to joke around much. “You… are entirely emotionally inept, aren’t you?”

Enjolras pouts at him.

“Does he know _why_ you’re avoiding him?”

“I told you, I always tell the men I sleep with that I’m not looking for anything serious.”

“You also said you try to avoid sleeping with the same guy more than a couple times, and this has been the third time you slept with this guy, at least,” Grantaire points out, and Enjolras purses his lips this time.

“I know. I told _him_ the same thing last night, and I said that it would likely be the last time I’d have him over.”

“Really?” Grantaire places his hands on his hips. “What’d he say?”

“He laughed at me,” Enjolras rolls his eyes. “All cocky and such.”

Grantaire tilts his head back to laugh as well. “And now you’re hiding from him in here with me… Is Enjolras in love at last?” Grantaire teases, although the words fill him with dread as they’re spoken.

“God no,” Enjolras shakes his head. “It’s not that.”

Thank Christ. “Then why keep seeing him?” Grantaire asks.

“I mean, wouldn’t that be obvious? The sex is good,” Enjolras says. “There is a reason he’s so… cocky.”

Grantaire laughs loudly again, “Seriously? Breaking all your little rules just because- dick too bomb?”

“Who even says that anymore?” Enjolras asks, scoffing. “Besides, my rules aren’t broken _yet_. I’ve slept with him three times, that’s my max. And it’s just- well, sort of like I was saying the other day, the sex can be sort of mediocre when you’re just sleeping with a bunch of people, and it’s difficult not to want to linger a little when you find a man who is, shall we say, above average.”

Grantaire narrows his eyes for just a second, “Do you mean, like, dick size? Not be crass. I just have to know.”

“I meant skill level.”

“Right.”

“Anyway…” Enjolras says. “Don’t slut-shame me.”

“I’m not,” Grantaire replies, and he finally sits back down on the edge of the bed, having forgotten why he was even trying to leave the room. “Hey, so, I have an idea,” he starts, his heartbeat increasing even starting the conversation.

“Oh?”

Grantaire breaths in through his nose, “What I’m hearing is, the sex you’re having is actually kind of boring and you seem, perhaps, a little tired of sleeping with random men all the time. So. What if you were to, say, start fucking the same person on a regular basis and agree that you’ll do it without strings attached? Then, he has the chance to learn what you like and all that.”

“Huh,” Enjolras hums, and looks thoughtful. Grantaire glances him up and down, and then looks to the wall, and back again. “With Henri?”

“No,” Grantaire says. His heart is in his throat. “With me.”

“Oh,” Enjolras repeats, and then his eyes flick up and down Grantaire’s chest, and Grantaire furrows his brows and pulls the blanket over himself quickly. “What? You just offered to fuck me, and you don’t want me to look at your body?”

“Hey, remember two days ago when you said that thing about being _just_ vulnerable enough to have sex but not wanting to get too vulnerable, either?”

“Fair enough,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire swallows. “I’m interested,” Enjolras says, “I don’t want to jump into anything, but, we could certainly… do a test drive.”

Grantaire takes a deep breath and sighs, mostly because of the phrasing.

“Are you sure _you_ want to?”

“Yes,” Grantaire says, perhaps too eagerly, “you’re just obnoxious as hell. Okay. Uh, when, should we… ‘try it out’?”

Enjolras shifts in his spot and fights not to look Grantaire up and down again. “We both still need to get tested for STIs today, and the results will be back tomorrow, but I’m wickedly busy this week. Maybe we can meet up the club and sort of do what I usually do?”

Grantaire nods. Just two bros, planning when they’re going to fuck one another next weekend. Totally normal. “Sounds good.”

“Okay,” Enjolras says.

Then, Grantaire stands up again, shirt still discarded on the floor. He remembers, now, he had wanted to use the bathroom before Enjolras caught his attention. “Fuck you later,” Grantaire says as if it were a greeting, moving towards the door.

Enjolras laughs, and then rolls his eyes, but it’s good-natured. “I’ll be seeing you for breakfast as soon as I’m dressed.”

“I know,” Grantaire says, and he slips out of the door. Enjolras’ door is open and his room is empty, so Grantaire can only assume Henri has left.

After using the bathroom, Grantaire goes back to the bedroom to report to Enjolras that his boytoy is gone, then puts on his shirt. Enjolras thanks him, then disappears into his own bedroom, and Grantaire heads back into the kitchen.

Combeferre has made some scrambled eggs and potato pancakes with the help of Marius. When Enjolras joins them, Grantaire makes the mistake of asking whether he’s vegan and gets treated to a full explanation of where they get their eggs from, right down to the names of the chickens that lay them.

Enjolras, it turns out, is vegetarian but tends towards vegan food where possible and tries to prioritize local food above all else. 

“Marius and his car do come in handy when it’s time to pick up produce directly from farms,” Enjolras mentions. 

“No other time, though,” Grantaire says, and Marius scoffs.

“Well…” Enjolras says, and Marius makes an offended noise. “Kidding.”

Grantaire shakes his head at Marius and mouths “he’s not”.

“I hate this _fucking_ family,” Marius says, but moments later he starts to help Grantaire clear the dishes.

“Next weekend, Ferre and I are going away again,” Courfeyrac announces.

“So soon?” Grantaire asks, leaning on the entryway between the open-concept kitchen and dining room.

“It’s my grandmother’s birthday,” Combeferre says, “and it’s always a good time to get away from the city. Always.”

“Fair enough,” Grantaire says. So, they won’t be around for while and Enjolras to do their little sexual trial run. Probably for the best.

“We should probably head out soon, R,” Enjolras cuts off his pondering, and Grantaire nods. 

“Where’re you headed?” Marius asks.

“We’re going to the sexual health clinic for STI testing,” Enjolras says, and Marius nods slowly.

“Totally normal answer.”

Grantaire places his hands over his eyes, and runs them through his hair. “Jesus tapdancing Christ.”

“What?” Enjolras says. “I’ve badgered many of my friends into coming to get tested with me, yourself included, Marius.”

“Most people don’t like to _announce_ it, is all,” Marius points out.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of! In fact, it’s the responsible thing to do! The real question is why we are all so comfortable playing directly into the idea that sex, and sexual health, is something that should be treated as dirty and shameful.”

Grantaire bites back a smile, “On the other hand, sex can still be deeply personal. And even if it shouldn’t be, the fact of that matter is- it _is_ stigmatized. Besides, if you’re implicating my sex life in your statement, are you not violating my consent in the situation?”

Enjolras opens his mouth, and then shuts it again. “You do have a point. I apologize for including you in my statement. Next time I will be sure to say _I_ am going to get tested for STIs and Grantaire will be leaving with me, but it’s entirely possibly he is accompanying me for moral support or camaraderie, who is to say?”

“Gee, thank you. Quick question, just how often do you think we’re both going to be getting tested for STIs _together_?” Grantaire asks, more off the cuff, though he realizes belatedly depending on what happens, it might actually be a relevant question. 

“I mean, we- or, _I_ should definitely go again next weekend. I had sex just last night, I plan to do it again Friday, and sometimes things don’t show up as quickly as you’d want them to, so getting tested on a regular basis is important if one has multiple partners.”

“You are all so fucking weird,” Marius mutters.

“Gays are just like this,” Courfeyrac stage whispers at him.

“Responsible ones,” Combeferre adds.

“Sexual health is important for _anyone_ having sex,” Enjolras insists.

“Didn’t you say you need to get going?” Combeferre asks, and Enjolras glances down at his analog watch.

"Dammit. C'mon, R."

“Yes, honey. Certainly we can keep arguing about the place of sexual testing in polite conversation while we’re on the crowded metro there,” Grantaire rolls his eyes.

“Exactly,” Enjolras says, and he starts to head towards the door. Grantaire pushes himself off the wall as the other three chorus their goodbyes.

Grantaire pulls on the sweater he brought, and Enjolras dons a dark gray jacket and his red scarf. Grantaire makes sure he has his wallet, transit pass, and health card, then they head out the door.

The next day, Grantaire sends the emailed results to Enjolras, and Enjolras sends his back to him in exchange.

At the end of the night, Enjolras says he’s “excited to see him on Friday” and Grantaire wishes him luck with his “wickedly busy week.”

Grantaire spends the next few days in somewhat of an anxious haze, wondering just what the fuck got into him to have seriously asked Enjolras to start fucking him.

He tells not a soul, because it definitely might crash and burn, and even if it doesn’t… if any of his friends hear of this, they’re going to want to smack some sense into him.

In all honestly, Grantaire wants to be left to his bad decisions, at least for the moment.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a reminder this fic is explicit!! also, it contains Grantaire making decisions that he knows might get him hurt in the long run, but he's doing them anyway. so just be mindful of that if it might bother or upset you!

“Let’s go dance,” Enjolras says directly into his ear, and Grantaire feels a shiver run up his spine. He nods, and Enjolras pulls him away from the bar and towards the dance floor.

Combeferre and Courfeyrac are away for the weekend, and none of their other friends ever really tag along when they’re clubbing, so Grantaire and Enjolras are there alone.

Normally, Enjolras would be flitting around the room with whatever man he’s seeing that week, but this time he only has eyes for Grantaire.

It’s intense, having that gaze fixed on him.

Enjolras places his hands on Grantaire’s lower back and holds him close, their bodies moving to the music. Grantaire throws an arm over Enjolras’ shoulder, breath catching in his throat when Enjolras drops his lips to R’s ear again.

“Can I kiss you?” Enjolras asks, and Grantaire nods against him.

“Yeah,” he half-shouts back, and then Enjolras lifts a palm to his cheek and presses his lips to Grantaire’s. 

It starts slow, then Enjolras pushes his tongue into Grantaire’s mouth and Grantaire makes a noise that goes unheard in the middle of the club. Grantaire slips presses his tongue back to Enjolras’, and he grips the back of Enjolras’ crisp button-up shirt at the same moment Enjolras tightens his grip on Grantaire’s hip.

After they part, Enjolras pulls him even closer than before, and they dance together. Intermittently, Enjolras leans down to kiss Grantaire with fervor, and Grantaire returns his enthusiasm.

With Enjolras’ hands all over his body, Grantaire is feeling even warmer than usual, which is saying something because it’s always ridiculously hot in the club. He couldn’t hope to be anywhere else, though, because Enjolras is pulling him flush by the tops of his thighs and he feels like they might as well be the only two people in the world with how fixated he is on every point of contact between them.

Grantaire is a little surprised- if he remembers correctly, Enjolras specified one of his “rules” for himself was that he tries not to kiss men too much. However, Grantaire isn’t about to question it.

They don’t end up staying quite as long as they usually would, although Grantaire recalls Enjolras tends to leave a lot earlier than he and Courferre do. 

They rideshare home, and Enjolras sits with his hand on Grantaire’s knee, fairly quiet. Enjolras tips the driver in the app, and the climb out.

They’re barely in the door when Enjolras pulls him close again and kisses him, though it doesn’t last as long. They manage to toe off their shoes and hang up their jackets, and then Enjolras is leading Grantaire up through the house and into his bedroom.

Once the door is shut and locked, Enjolras’ hands land on Grantaire’s hips again, and he leans down.

Grantaire lifts his chin and meets him halfway, placing his hand on Enjolras’ shoulders as they kiss. Enjolras slips his tongue into Grantaire’s mouth again, and Grantaire groans quietly, pushing their tongues together as Enjolras pulls him a little closer.

Grantaire pulls back slowly, and Enjolras tugs him towards his bed. They sit at the edge.

The comforter is crumpled in a pile on the floor, and the top sheet is slightly disheveled, but Grantaire doesn’t have time to question the state of Enjolras’ room.

Enjolras slips his hand under Grantaire’s t-shirt and leans to kiss along his collar, and Grantaire sighs quietly, his nails scraping at the nape of Enjolras’ neck and his other hand toying with the button of Enjolras’ shirt.

“Can I take your shirt off?” Enjolras asks against his skin.

Grantaire nods, and then mutters, “Yeah,” softly. Enjolras leans back to pull his shirt off, and Grantaire then reaches for his buttons in exchange.

It’s exhilarating and terrifying all at once.

Grantaire is actually here, he’s actually doing this. His hands are pushing Enjolras’ shirt down his shoulders, then Enjolras is standing, and then pushing Grantaire down by the chest to climb onto his lap and kiss him as they lie back.

Enjolras moans against his lips as Grantaire explores his mouth, and the sound goes straight to Grantaire’s cock.

“Fuck,” Grantaire groans against Enjolras.

“I want you,” Enjolras tells him, and Grantaire feels his stomach flip. Enjolras sits up, and then moves to stand. “You good?”

Grantaire nods dumbly, pushing himself up on the palms of his hands.

“Verbally, if you please.”

“Yes, I’m good.”

“Excellent,” Enjolras says, and then he goes over to his bedside table and grabs condoms and lube. He unbuckles the belt on his black jeans, and Grantaire undoes his own belt, too. “Are you comfortable with, well, topping?”

Grantaire glances back at him, and nods, “More than ‘comfortable’, Enj.”

Enjolras smiles at him, and Grantaire stands up as well.

“How do you want it?” Grantaire asks, voice low, and Enjolras breathes out.

“On my knees, on the bed,” Enjolras nods, and Grantaire lifts his chin.

With that, they both move to undress the rest of the way, and Grantaire bites down on his lip. He’s still filled with a mild sense of disbelief, like there’s no way this could actually be happening to him.

Enjolras is standing in front of him, naked and mostly hard, and there’s not a sight more beautiful that Grantaire has ever seen.

Enjolras moves close to Grantaire again and kisses him, hands running up and down Grantaire’s side. Grantaire gasps softly, and Enjolras groans against his mouth. When Enjolras pulls away, he glances down, then up, “I can do the prep, if you want,” he says slowly, and Grantaire perks a brow.

“Only if _you_ want to,” Grantaire says, sliding his hands to Enjolras’ lower back as Enjolras bites down on his lip. “I’d be happy to do it for you,” he adds, voice low. 

“If you’re certain,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire leans forward to kiss along his jaw, hearing Enjolras sigh softly- a quiet noise, something he likely wouldn’t have heard through the wall.

“Get on the bed,” Grantaire tells him with a smirk, and Enjolras rolls his eyes, but he’s blushing. "Tell me if there's anything I do that you don't like."

Enjolras nods wordlessly and moves to sit in the middle of the bed, then grabs the lube and presses it into Grantaire’s hand, and then a little plastic-wrapped thing that isn’t actually a condom.

Grantaire resists the urge to roll his eyes, but puts the dumb little finger gloves on because clearly he’s expected to use them if Enjolras is giving them to him.

While he’s doing that, Enjolras gets to his knees, and Grantaire leans to kiss him one more time before he moves to bend forward.

Grantaire runs his non-gloved hand down Enjolras’ spine before pouring a generous amount of lube onto his fingers. He resists the urge to say he feels like he’s doing a medical exam and tries to put the latex straight out of his mind as he circles Enjolras’ hole.

He doesn’t need to work too hard to slip his first finger in, which- well, it’s not that shocking, given Enjolras has known for a week they were planning on having sex tonight. It only makes sense to prep a little beforehand.

“Fuck,” he hears Enjolras gasp as he thrusts his finger slow and shallow to start, then gets deeper and deeper as time goes on. Grantaire swallows, eyes raking over Enjolras’ smooth back and curled hair.

Grantaire bites down on his lip when he adds a second finger, stretching. He hasn’t been particularly sexually active lately, not since the hookup he had in order to try to forget the man he’s currently fingerfucking. Still, Grantaire knows how to do _this_ well enough.

Enjolras is moaning, throaty and loud. Like always, the sound runs through Grantaire and boils his blood.

“R,” Enjolras gasps, after Grantaire has added a third finger and stretched him wide. Grantaire stops. “Fuck me,” Enjolras says.

Grantaire doesn’t need to be told twice.

His mouth feels a little dry as he discards the finger gloves and grabs an actual condom, rolling it on and coating his cock with lube.

“You ready?” Grantaire asks, running his hands down over Enjolras hips and thighs, caressing him.

“Yes, god,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire breathes in slowly, taking his cock in his hand and lining himself up.

He pushes in slowly and Enjolras’ breath hitches before he moans, twisting his hands in the bedsheets. Grantaire thrusts in once, then twice, still slow and ever-so-gentle, before Enjolras whines in his throat.

“R, harder,” he requests, and Grantaire bites back a smirk.

“But I’m so hard already,” Grantaire says, and Enjolras makes an annoyed little noise. Grantaire laughs, and then re-arranges his grip on Enjolras’ hips before fucking into him earnestly, swallowing another moan of his own.

Enjolras does no such thing, gasping and moaning loudly, just as Grantaire has come to expect by now. He moans steadily as Grantaire sets a good pace, hard but not _too_ fast.

“Better?” Grantaire teases, breathing in a laugh.

“Yes,” Enjolras answers honestly, pushing his hips back against Grantaire and squeezing around his cock. Grantaire grunts, holding onto Enjolras just a touch tighter.

Grantaire slows a few moments later, only so he can bend over Enjolras back part of the way, one of his hands sliding to Enjolras’ stomach. “Can I touch you?” he asks, and Enjolras moans, though it might not be in direct response to his question.

“Yes.”

“Even without a full-ass glove on?”

“Yes,” Enjolras grits back out. “Safe sex precautions are _important_ Grantaire- but you may touch my cock, should you wish.”

Grantaire tilts his head back to laugh, delirious, for just a moment. He _can_ believe that Enjolras just said that to him, but it’s still bizarre. Not that this situation could get much more bizarre. Grantaire still can’t believe they’re fucking at all.

He doesn’t say anything more, though. Grantaire slowly straightens his back, making sure he’s balanced before wrapping his hand around Enjolras’ cock and stroking him in time with his thrusts.

For what it’s worth, Enjolras moans even louder, and chokes on his name. Grantaire thinks he remembers Enjolras saying he doesn’t call men by their names unless they’re _asked_ , but he isn’t about to call him out when he’s squeezing around his cock and looking so beautiful beneath him.

“Fuck,” Grantaire gasps, squeezing the head of Enjolras’ cock as he fucks him just a little harder, shutting his eyes for a moment to focus on the sensations of Enjolras’ body and the sounds of his moans.

Enjolras cums with a shout into Grantaire’s hand, still pushing back into him for a few moments until Grantaire quickly follows him with a long groan of his own.

Grantaire pulls out and does away with the condom fairly quickly, finding Enjolras’ garbage can. Enjolras gets and pulls a thin handtowel out of his nightstand, and Grantaire accepts it to wipe his hands.

Glancing at the door, Grantaire presses his lips together, then looks back over to Enjolras. Enjolras is leaning against his bed, still looking a touch winded or something along those lines.

He looks utterly gorgeous, face tinged pink and lit only by the lamp next to his bed.

Grantaire looks back at the door, then leans down to grab his boxers and pull them back on. Then, he heads for the door, and unlocks it.

“Can you bring water when you come back?” Enjolras asks him, and Grantaire tosses a look over his shoulder and nods.

“Sure.”

With that, he’s free, and Grantaire breathes out slowly once he makes it to the bathroom. He washes his hands in cold water, and then splashes it on his face, and rubs at the black eyeliner that smudged just a bit at the outer corner of his eye. He takes a few more breaths, deep and slow.

It seemed like Enjolras had fun. Grantaire definitely enjoyed it. He’s still in a state of shock that it happened at all, though.

Grantaire lingers in the bathroom for another minute or two before going into the kitchen and filling up two glasses of water. He brings them to Enjolras’ room, and slowly opens the door.

Enjolras is sitting on the edge of his bed, now clad in a new pair of boxers. The comforter has been thrown onto the bed in vaguely the right orientation, but not tucked in nicely or anything.

Grantaire wordlessly offers him one of the glasses, and Enjolras accepts with a smile and “thanks”.

Then, Enjolras gets up. “I’ll be right back. Feel free to get into bed, though,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire nods dumbly.

Admittedly, Grantaire hadn’t really considered what would happen after they fucked. He sort of assumed he’d go sleep in Courfeyrac’s room, but… maybe that won’t be the case.

Grantaire pushes the comforter down a bit and notices the bedsheet is entirely different to the one from earlier, which does make sense given the events that just took place. He sits down, because Enjolras told him to get into bed, and taps his thumb on his knee.

Enjolras returns some minutes later, and shuts the bedroom door behind him. He goes over to the side of his bed, drains half the water he had, and then climbs under the comforter and lies on his side.

“Do you like to cuddle to sleep?” Enjolras asks him, and Grantaire looks down at him like he’s grown a second head.

“Yes?”

“Come here, then,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire presses his brows together, but he finally lies down. “Unless you don’t want to.”

“No, this is fine,” Grantaire says, and Enjolras turns the other way for a moment to shut his lamp off, and then slips his arm around Grantaire’s middle. 

“This was good,” Enjolras says, quiet. Soft.

“I agree,” Grantaire says.

“We should do it again,” Enjolras says.

“Perfect,” Grantaire says. “Feel free to booty call me anytime,” he adds, and Enjolras makes a noise of amusement.

“Noted,” Enjolras says. “Sweet dreams, R.”

“Night.”

He does not fall asleep easily.

Grantaire’s mind is swimming, going over what just happened to him, the rush of the experience and the utter confusion directly after. It’s almost starting to sink in, what just transpired, but- it _really,_ truly, does not feel real to him. Not yet.

He knows one thing, though-

He’s more fucked now than he ever was before. Literally and metaphorically.

“Dammit,” he mutters under his breath. Enjolras snores from beside him, his arm like a lead weight baring on Grantaire’s midsection.

Yep.

He is well and thoroughly fucked.


	7. Chapter 7

“You seem happy,” Musichetta observes, when Grantaire shows up for his Saturday night shift at the bar.

“Do I?” Grantaire asks.

Once he left the state of confusion and disbelif, a giddy sort of excitement set in- sure, he’s in a “no strings allowed” relationship with a guy he’s utterly in love with, but now he’s _fucking_ said guy, and he (hopefully) won’t have to listen to him get fucked by _other_ men all the time anymore. That’s progress, even if he’s likely to get his heart utterly crushed somewhere down the line.

“Yeah. It’s giving me the creeps,” Chetta smiles as she grabs a rag and wipes a spot where someone’s water left sweat, then tosses the rag down again.

Grantaire snorts, “Fair enough.”

“What’s got into you?” Chetta presses, and Grantaire hums.

He _doesn’t_ want to start talking to Musichetta about Enjolras, because he just knows he’ll spill every last detail about his incessant pining and Musichetta will give him good-quality advice that he will have to ignore in favor more bitter longing and bad decisions.

“Nothing, really,” Grantaire says. “Had a fun night out, is all.”

“You still going out _every_ weekend with Combeferre and Courfeyrac?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“I own a bar, and I don’t know how you four do it,” Chetta shakes her head. “And not to mention, the schedules of the other three? How the fuck do they have the time to get wasted one night a week?”

“In fairness, we don’t actually get _that_ drunk most weeks. Dancing is exercise, which is good stress relief, according to Ferre. And he’s a doctor.”

“He’s a med student,” Chetta counters, “but you have a point. As long as you’re having fun. And you’re not blacking out every weekend.”

“I haven’t _blacked out_ once with them,” Grantaire says truthfully. “We seriously don’t get that drunk- honestly, we get drunker at the house parties they throw. When we go out, it’s pretty much just to dance, Chetta, for real.”

“Okay,” Musichetta holds her hands up, and then a couple of customers are heading up to them, so it’s a good time to cut their chatter off.

When he has to go in the backroom to grab something, Grantaire checks his phone. He has a novel-length text from Enjolras about all the ways one can and should practice safe sex, including the recommendation that he consider PrEP if he has multiple sex partners (or practices certain drug-use habits). Enjolras also tells him he uses it himself, which isn’t shocking.

The conversation is being continued from the discussion they were having earlier in the day, at the sexual health clinic, because Enjolras all but demanded Grantaire get tested with him again.

> **i don’t have multiple sex partnersssssssss tho  
** > **like obviously ill go get tested with you but the rest of that shit? miss me**

<< **I am your sex partner now, and I have had *many*. Obviously you don’t have to adopt the same practices as I do, I’m just stressing the importance of considering things like less conventional latex barriers and PReP**

> **consider them considered.**

>> **Mind you, you are far from the first man mildly put off by the extent of the precautions I take, but did you really consider them a barrier to your enjoyment?**

**< no lol. it was fine, boo **

Grantaire rolls his eyes and puts his phone down, because he can’t hide in the back talking to Enjolras all night on a Saturday or Musichetta _will_ kill him.

After that, Grantaire doesn’t get a chance to check his phone again, and Chetta never gets another round of grilling him, either, because- it is a Saturday night, and the bar is pretty busy.

In fact, Grantaire doesn’t get a chance to check his phone until after Chetta has driven him home for the night and he flops onto his bed, exhausted.

<< **We should probably have a discussion regarding the exclusivity of our relationship.**

Well, that statement fills himself with absolute dread.

> **sure. you still wanna fuck other people, my darling little slut?**

Grantaire doesn’t expect Enjolras to respond, because it’s like 2:30am.

As usual, Enjolras defies expectation, and texts him back like five minutes later.

<< **No, not really. At least for the moment.  
** << **However… I don’t know if we should consider ourselves ‘monogamous’ either. I don’t want this to feel restrictive for either of us.  
** << **I was thinking, if either of us are planning to have sex with someone else, we tell one another. Or if we end up sleeping with someone else, unplanned, we tell one another.  
** << **As well, Grantaire… I know I just spent an hour going over the merits of safe sex precautions, but there are a couple of things I would like to do without condoms, and I would be comfortable with that if we both test negative tomorrow and agree that we are going to be relatively-monogamous, and if/when we do see other people, we will go back to using the condoms/gloves/etc.  
** << **And if you’re comfortable with it, anyway.**

Grantaire holds his breath and waits until the ‘typing’ box goes away for good this time, and then swallows, thickly.

< **sounds good to me. wasnt planning on fucking anyone else anyway.  
** < **in all honesty not using condoms doesnt bother me. i am now very well acquainted with just how careful you are, Enj.**

>> **Okay, perfect.  
** >> **You should get some sleep, Grantaire.**

< **so should you, slut**

>> **I am going to bed.**

< **sure you are.**

>> **I am.  
** >> **Goodnight, R**

< **night Enj**

Grantaire places his phone down on his chest, and stares up at the ceiling for a few minutes, until he slowly gets up to gets ready for bed.

He can’t say he isn’t happy Enjolras doesn’t want to fuck other people. He had, in fact, assumed he wouldn’t, so the possibility that he would sort of sent chills down Grantaire’s spine.

But, turns out he doesn’t have much to worry about, for the time being.

Grantaire finds it a little funny that Enjolras might possibly want to jump straight to barebacking, but it is also possible he secretly hates those little finger condoms and wants to do away with them for a change. Guess Grantaire will just have to find out when Enjolras explains what he wants to do “condomless” 

The next day, Grantaire wakes up to his STI report in the early afternoon, and forwards it to Enjolras’, then gets Enjolras’ back in response.

Neither of them tested positive for anything. Grantaire sends Enjolras an eggplant emoji as well as a raindrop and a happy face.

>> **lol**

Is the response that comes back. Grantaire doesn’t bother responding to it, he gets up, takes a shower, and then eats something for “breakfast”.

About twenty-five minutes later, he gets another text from Enjolras.

>> **You wanna come over?**

< **when?**

>> **Now. Or later tonight.**

< **…  
** < **now is good.**

Grantaire clicks his tongue. He’s glad the first thing he did was shower, although he’s still taken by surprise that Enjolras is inviting him over _right_ this fucking second.

>> **Okay, let me know when you get here.**

Grantaire pulls on a sweater and then a light athletic jacket because, although it's almost winter, it’s a pretty mild day. Then, he checks his hair in the mirror, glances at the transit schedule, and heads out.

He texts Enjolras once he takes the last turn towards Chez Les Amis, coming up to the door to find Enjolras opening it for him as he steps in.

“Hey,” Grantaire greets.

“Hi,” Enjolras says.

As soon as the door is locked behind them, Enjolras pulls Grantaire forward by the hips and kisses him senseless.

Grantaire moans in surprise, twisting his hands into Enjolras’ hair as he’s pushed against the wall right beside the shoe rack. Grantaire parts his legs as Enjolras pushes his knee between them and Grantaire pulls Enjolras’ tongue into his mouth and groans against his lips.

Grantaire feels his jacket pull at his left elbow, where he’d only started to take it off before getting accosted by Enjolras in the front hall. The other side of the jacket is still hooked on his shoulder, but Grantaire couldn’t begin to care.

Enjolras pulls back ever so slightly and kisses next to Grantaire’s mouth, then down his jaw and to his neck, sucking on his skin.

Grantaire breathes out, moving one hand to slide up and under Enjolras’ shirt, shutting his eyes for a moment as Enjolras bites him gently.

When Grantaire opens his eyes, he glances to the side only to see the door at the end of the hall open. Marius takes a step through, his eyes going comically large at the sigh of the two of them.

Grantaire lifts his hand from Enjolras’ back and points two fingers towards his own eyes, and then one finger at Marius. Finally, he makes a throat-cutting motion. Marius gives a firm nod, and glances behind him.

Then, Cosette comes up next to him, lets out a little squeak, and Grantaire pulls on Enjolras’ hair.

Enjolras lifts his head, then looks over. “Shit,” he mutters, and Cosette presses her lips together to stop from laughing.

“Sorry,” Enjolras adds, clearing his throat.

“No, no,” Cosette says. Marius just looks tired.

“We’ll just. Go on upstairs,” Enjolras says, and Cosette nods. Enjolras pushes himself away from Grantaire and the wall, and takes his hand, as if Grantaire couldn’t find his way on his own or something.

Grantaire says nothing, trailing after him.

“Use protection!” Cosette calls as they start up the stairs, and Enjolras looks over his shoulder at her.

“Always.”

Grantaire breathes in steadily, and they finally weave through the living room and kitchen to get to Enjolras bedroom.

“Oops,” Enjolras says, when they make it, and Grantaire shakes his head at him. Enjolras breathes in a laugh, and then reaches for Grantaire’s beltloops. He kisses him again.

Grantaire quickly forgets the mortification, and outright ignores the fact that by now half their friend group must know what Cosette and Marius just witnessed.

That is a problem for future him.

Presently, Enjolras is cupping Grantaire’s cheeks with both of his hands, kissing him intensely, and Grantaire’s hands are wandering across Enjolras’ back underneath his t-shirt.

Enjolras eventually breaks their kiss to pull off his shirt, and Grantaire follows suit. Then, Enjolras’ hands come to Grantaire’s belt buckle, and he starts to undo it, “This okay?”

“Feel free,” Grantaire lifts his hands, and Enjolras kisses him one more time before unzipping his pants. Grantaire steps out of his jeans.

Then, Enjolras pulls them over to his bed, and opens his drawer. “Can I go down on you?” he asks.

“Yes,” Grantaire breathes.

“And you don’t mind if we use a condom?” Enjolras asks, and Grantaire just gives him a look.

“Of course not. I know how much safe sex means to you, Enj, you’ve made it abundantly clear. I like to give you a hard time, but I’ll use whatever protection you want,” Grantaire tells him, and Enjolras just smiles.

“Okay. Like I said, I do want to stop using it, just- not the second time we fuck,” Enjolras explains, and Grantaire nods.

He would ask for a bit more elaboration, but Enjolras is kissing down his chest, then dropping to his knees on the floor before him, and putting his mouth on the front of Grantaire’s grey cotton boxers.

Grantaire places a fingertip on his lips and watches Enjolras grip his cock through his underwear, and then slowly move his fingers to the elastic waistband, pulling down.

Tearing open the condom, Enjolras rolls it onto Grantaire’s cock, and then strokes him a few times, before licking up the side.

Grantaire reaches down and runs his fingers through Enjolras’ hair, gentle. Enjolras glances up at him.

“Feel free to hold my hair a little harder than that,” Enjolras says softly, and Grantaire nods, licking his lips.

With that, Enjolras takes Grantaire’s cock into his mouth, tongue pressed up to the underside, and sucks gently.

“Fuck,” Grantaire breaths, and he does twist his hand in Enjolras’ hair, gripping him as Enjolras starts slowly, before swallowing around him and looking up with wide eyes.

Grantaire groans, glancing up at the ceiling and back down again as Enjolras holds his thighs and bobs up and down on his cock, making some sinful little noises of his own.

“God, Enjolras,” Grantaire says again, and Enjolras looks back up again, and releases his cock with an obscene sound.

“Grantaire, I want you to fuck me,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire lowers a hand to take Enjolras’ chin.

“Come up here and bend over, then,” Grantaire says, and Enjolras smiles slowly.

Grantaire removes his hand from Enjolras’ hair and helps him off his knees, and then pulls Enjolras forward to kiss him a few times Enjolras turns over to lean against the bed.

Grantaire grabs the lube and finger gloves, and holds Enjolras’ hip with his free hand as he slowly works his middle finger inside of him, listening to Enjolras’ breathy little moans.

Again, Enjolras takes him easily to start- he did, after all, invite Grantaire over specifically to get fucked. So, Grantaire is quick to add a second finger, and then a third, stretching him out as Enjolras groans into his sheets.

“Grantaire,” Enjolras moans, elongating his name. It’s the sweetest sound R has ever heard.

“Ready, Enj?”

“Yes,” Enjolras confirms, and Grantaire bites his lip.

Grabbing the lube again, Grantaire coats his cock after he discards the little finger gloves, then holds Enjolras’ hip with one hand and lines himself up before thrusting in slowly.

Enjolras gasps beneath him, then pushes his hips back. Grantaire grunts in response.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” Grantaire tells him, moving his hand to the base of Enjolras spine as he gives a shallow thrust.

“Grantaire,” Enjolras whines, “keep going.”

Grantaire swallows, and picks up the pace a little faster this time. Obviously Enjolras can take it, so he fucks him harder, rolling his hips forward more forcefully. 

“Fuck, R,” Enjolras gasps, and Grantaire holds his hips tight as they move together.

Grantaire looks up and down Enjolras’ spine. He has a beautiful back, smooth skin. His hair is messed up but not flattened completely, and as usual, the moaning and shouting coming from him is just indecent. Grantaire would say he doesn’t remember the last time he was _this_ turned on, but obviously it was two days ago when they fucked the first time.

Still, this is even better than that already, if just because how clear it is Enjolras _wants_ him, calling him over in the middle of the day.

“Fuck,” Grantaire swallows, driving his hips forward a little harder as Enjolras makes a strangled noise in his throat.

Grantaire isn’t surprised that he can’t last all that long, Enjolras has been clearly driving him crazy from the beginning. Still, he pulls Enjolras forward just a bit and slides his hand around to take Enjolras’ cock in his hand, too stroking him as he rolls his hips forward.

“Grantaire,” Enjolras gasps once again. Again, Grantaire would never dare call him on it, but he’s surprised how much Enjolras calls his name when he specifically said he didn’t do that- perhaps it’s just because he knows he’s not worried about getting attached, but Grantaire pushes that thought straight out of his mind and focuses on the feeling of Enjolras squeezing around him.

“Fuck,” Grantaire pants as he shuts his eyes tight and cums with a shout, and he hears Enjolras groan underneath him. Grantaire pulls out, but keeps his hand around Enjolras’ body, stroking his cock at the same pace.

“Wait, wait,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire stops immediately, lifting his hand from him. His brain doesn’t get a chance to freak out too much, though, because Enjolras stands and turns around, grabbing him by the back of his neck and bringing his hand back to his cock again.

“R,” Enjolras whines against his lips, and Grantaire squeezes his cock, feeling Enjolras fingernails dig hard into his forearm before he, too, cums between them.

Enjolras pants into his mouth and Grantaire opens his eyes, slowly moving back from Enjolras before Enjolras sits on the bed more fully, and then chuckles.

“Was it good for you?” Enjolras asks, leaning over to grab a hand towel from his bedside table.

“Um, yeah,” Grantaire says, and he moves to get rid of the condom before accepting and using the towel Enjolras offers him. Enjolras stands and brings him in for a kiss again, and Grantaire goes willingly. “Yourself?” Grantaire asks, and Enjolras just smiles slowly.

“I had fun,” Enjolras tells him, kissing him again before adding, “a _lot_ of fun.”

“Good,” Grantaire nods, once, and then Enjolras encourages them to get on the bed, and they cuddle.

Eventually, the naked cuddles turn into round two, and after that they’re snuggling yet again.

Enjolras has his head on Grantaire’s chest, and Grantaire is twirling his finger around Enjolras’ hair.

“Hey,” Enjolras says slowly, looking up at Grantaire. Grantaire quirks a brow, “sometime soon... can we fuck with me on my back? It’s been a while since I’ve changed up positions.”

“Sure,” Grantaire says. It’s probably dangerous to be able to look into Enjolras’ eyes while they fuck- he can see why Enjolras avoids face-to-face positions if he’s trying to curb attachment.

Enjolras smiles, small but bright, and presses a kiss to Grantaire’s chest.

“Great,” Enjolras says, voice soft. 


	8. Chapter 8

"Honey! We’re home!”

Grantaire watches Enjolras launch himself from the couch and skid on his socks dangerously close to the top of the stairs. Grantaire winces, but a moment later Enjolras is hugging Combeferre, and then Courfeyrac.

“Hey,” Enjolras says, “how was your trip?”

“It was good,” Combeferre says.

“How’s your sister? And Nana?”

“They’re both good. Nana was asking after you, too,” Combeferre tells him, and Enjolras smiles brightly. “She says you should come home with us again soon. I sent your regrets.”

“I was busy here, but I’ll try next time,” Enjolras assures him. At that point, Courfeyrac’s eyes land on Grantaire and he tilts his head.

“Hey, R,” Courfeyrac says, his voice betraying a bit of confusion, but no disappointment.

“Hey.”

“Oh, hi,” Combeferre says, and Enjolras looks back at him, too. Grantaire frowns under the three gazes boring into him. 

“What’re you doing here?” Courfeyrac asks, “is there a bake sale we forgot about?”

“No,” Enjolras says, then he glances between Grantaire, and Courferre. Grantaire purses his lips.

“Oh.”

Courfeyrac makes his way to the couch to sit next to Grantaire, who was sort of in the middle, and Enjolras returns and squeezes himself between Grantaire and the arm of the couch, and slings his arm around him. Grantaire breaths in, and doesn’t miss the look of brief befuddlement on Courfeyrac’s face.

“So how was your weekend?” Courfeyrac singsongs, and Enjolras looks at Grantaire, who fixes him with a stare in return.

Enjolras clears his throat and glances to Combeferre, now on the loveseat next to Courfeyrac’s side of the couch, and then looks back to Grantaire.

Combeferre raises a brow, and Enjolras leans close to Grantaire’s ear.

“We should have discussed what we’re going to tell our friends,” he whispers, and his breath is hot and somehow humiliating.

“No shit,” Grantaire hisses back, and he scoffs. “How about the truth?” he stage whispers.

“If you’re comfortable.”

“You two are really starting to freak me out,” Courfeyrac says, casual.

“Tell us about what now...?” Combeferre asks, and Grantaire heaves a sigh.

“Marius and Cosette didn’t text you, huh?”

“We’ve been on the road all morning- text us about what?” Courfeyrac asks, pressing his lips together.

“Should I say it or-”

“Just do it, Enj,” Grantaire snaps.

“We’re sleeping together,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire breathes out.

“Oh,” Courfeyrac says, and his brows must have hit the ceiling momentarily. “Okay,” he says, nodding.

“Wow,” Combeferre says. “Since when?”

“Friday,” the two of them say together.

“Right,” Combeferre says.

“Con… gratulations?” Courfeyrac says, but it comes out high pitched and awkward. Grantaire shakes his head at him. “Sorry. I just. What?”

Enjolras shrugs his shoulder, “I was getting tired of sleeping with strangers all the time, so Grantaire suggested we become fuck buddies. It’s been going well so far.”

“Jesus, the rave reviews from you,” Grantaire drops his fist on Enjolras’ knee, and Enjolras bites back a laugh.

“Oh, didn’t realize you wanted me to sing your praises in front of God and everyone we know, but if that’s truly what you wish, I mean-”

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

“That’s what I thought,” Enjolras shakes Grantaire’s shoulder, and R shakes his head.

Courfeyrac nods again. “No, seriously, this is super cute, though,” he smiles. A beat later, he says, “Oh, hey, Ferre. Didn’t Nana say we should call her once we get home?”

“Right,” Combeferre says. “Yeah, we should do that. And probably put our clothes away.”

“And do the laundry, yeah.”

“Mhm,” Combeferre nods. “We’ll, uh, see you two later on?”

“Sure thing,” Enjolras says, raising a brow.

“I might be gone by then, but, eh. I’ll see you around, too,” Grantaire says, and Combeferre and Courfeyrac both nod, and then get up.

“Weird energy,” Enjolras comments.

“I mean, I think we created that,” Grantaire says, and Enjolras breathes a laugh.

“In fairness, I’m used to creating weird energies,” Enjolras admits.

“You mean not everyone loves it when you turn every single fucking conversation into a political debate?”

“Believe it or not, they don’t,” Enjolras tells him. “I do it anyway.”

“Hell yeah you do,” Grantaire laughs, and then Enjolras leans down to kiss him. Grantaire makes a quiet noise of surprise, and then kisses back.

They shift their positions so they’re facing one another, and Grantaire brings his hands to Enjolras shoulders as Enjolras sighs against his lips.

“R,” Enjolras murmurs.

“Hm?”

“Bedroom?”

“Seriously?” Grantaire laughs, and Enjolras kisses down his neck. God, what a fixation he has on that body part, not that Grantaire is complaining.

“You _don’t_ want to?” Enjolras asks, breath hot against his ear again, but this time it sends shivers up Grantaire’s spine.

“Oh no, I definitely do.”

“C’mon, then,” Enjolras bites his ear and Grantaire swallows.

“Okay, okay,” Grantaire runs his hands through Enjolras’ hair and tugs, and they kiss one more time before they finally move off the couch, and head to the bedroom.

Downstairs, Combeferre and Courfeyrac are staring at each other, wordlessly, until Courfeyrac says,

“I’m just as pretty as Enjolras is.”

“You are,” Combeferre assures him, reaching out to place a hand on his boyfriend’s arm.

“I’m sure we’re both just as good in bed,” Courfeyrac insists, and Combeferre nods.

“We are.”

“Why did it have to be _him_?” Courfeyrac whines, and Combeferre puts his arm around his boyfriend.

“Life is unfair,” Combeferre says. “Maybe it will fizzle out?”

“We shouldn’t wish that on them. They’re probably both really happy,” Courfeyrac whines. Combeferre nods.

“You’re right, we shouldn’t. But, we’re also allowed to feel sad, and bitter. It hurts, and it’s okay that it hurts.”

“I know. This just- Everything sucks so bad,” Courfeyrac sighs, and Combeferre leans over to kiss him, long and sweet, and Courfeyrac kisses him back just the same.

Courfeyrac slowly lies down, pulling Combeferre on top of him.

“Maybe you can fuck the sadness out of me?” Courfeyrac asks, and Combeferre chuckles.

“Well, I can certainly try,” he promises, and then he kisses down Courfeyrac’s neck.

\--

“So,” Eponine says slowly. Grantaire can already tell this is not going to be a fun conversation.

“The weather’s been really mild lately, wouldn’t you say Ep?”

“Cut the shit. You and Enjolras, huh?” Eponine purses her lips, and Grantaire sighs dramatically.

“Yes, obviously. Every activist in the city must know by now with the grapevine strung through all the little groups,” Grantaire waves his hand. “Can’t fuck anyone or make a bad decision without the altering the entire ton these days.”

“Ton? Do you mean _town_?”

“You haven’t been watching Bridgerton?”

“What…?”

“Nevermind. Aren’t you going to grill me?” Grantaire lifts his coffee cup, and it’s Eponine’s turn to sigh. Instead of dramatic, though, it’s long and somewhat defeated.

“You expressly told me you weren’t going to throw yourself at him.”

“I didn’t _throw_ myself at him, I suggested he start fucking me on a regular basis instead of sleeping around with a bunch of people.”

“And he went for that?” Eponine asks, pressing her brows together.

“Yeah, actually, he said himself he’s been bored of fucking different guys all the time. So I said, y’know, maybe you could just sleep with one man with no strings attached and that way you can get to know his _body_ and that sort of shit, I dunno.”

“No strings attached?” Eponine says, her eyes boring into his. Grantaire was hoping by rushing over that part she might not call him on it.

“Yeah,” Grantaire shrugs his shoulder.

“Honey.”

“Don’t you dare patronize me,” Grantaire snaps his fingers and points at her, and Eponine just shakes her head.

“You’re not as much of an idiot as you pretend to be, but Jesus Christ on a cracker, Grantaire. This is a bad idea.”

“I know that,” Grantaire snaps. “But I’ll be fine, Eponine, I don’t need your little mother-henning or whatever this is. Jesus, you’d think I’m talking to Joly or something,” Grantaire scoffs, and Eponine sets her jaw.

“I’m not going to try to stop you,” Eponine lifts her hands. “I can suggest you cut your losses and run, but I am not naïve enough to think that’s going to happen. Just- you do know we’re all here for you if things go south?”

Grantaire shrugs, “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

Eponine just shakes her head. “Is the sex good, at least?”

“Oh, it’s ungodly,” Grantaire sighs. “It’s so fucking good. You know how intense Enjolras is about, eehhh, literally everything?”

“That translates to the bedroom?”

“Yeah.”

“Damn,” Eponine pulls a face. “Well, at least it will be a sweet death.”

Grantaire purses his lips, “On that, we can agree. So. Enough about me, what’s new with you lately?”

Eponine hums, “Honestly? Not that much. What’s going on between you and Enjolras _is_ the talk of the ‘ton’ today. Gav and I were considering going to watch that new film, with the cars or something.”

“Oh, Car Movie, sounds fun. Been really meaning to see that one myself,” Grantaire says, and Eponine smiles slowly.

“We’re probably gonna go tomorrow. If you don’t have a dick appointment, feel free to join us,” Eponine suggests.

“I’ll be free, actually. Enjolras is in class during the evening sooo…”

“It’s a date,” Eponine says, and Grantaire smiles back at her.

“Sounds good.”

They chat a bit more, about some other movies that have been advertised recently, until Grantaire glances at the clock at the wall and notices the time.

“I should probably start heading to work,” he says, and Eponine finishes the rest of her drink in one gulp.

“I can walk you out,” she says, and he nods, then picks up his phone.

As per usual, he has some entire books in his message history, all from Enjolras talking another progressive subject to death, and then wishing him a good shift at work.

Grantaire pockets his phone.

Eponine quirks a brow, “Who was messaging you?”

“Nobody,” Grantaire says, and Eponine pulls a face. “Enjolras. Lecturing me about some study that was done in Finland or something, I don’t know, I barely read half the shit he sends me.” It’s a lie, but Eponine doesn’t call him on it.

“Hm,” Eponine nods.

“Anyway, let’s go. Chetta is working and she’ll kill me if I’m late.”

“Really? You’d think she’d be used to running on R time by now.”

“Fine, she won’t kill me, but she will be mildly disappointed and that is so much worse.”

“True,” Eponine says, and they head out the door of the coffee shop. Eponine walks with him until they part at the bus stop, and Grantaire continues on to the bar.

It dawns on him, perhaps belatedly, that Musichetta will also know about the whole he-and-Enjorlas-are-fucking-apparently thing, _and_ she will probably have sussed out that it had already happened by the time he had his shift on Saturday. With her. And he elected, specifically, not to tell her about it.

He can lie and say Enjolras requested he keep it under wraps, but, Enjolras seems to be absolutely fine airing his entire sexual history for anyone who will listen, so that is not the most convincing of excuses.

Grantaire is filled with utter dread by the time he ducks behind the counter of the bar and weaves into the backroom.

“Hey!” Musichetta chirps at him, with a little smile.

“Hi,” he greets, pressing his lips together.

She just smiles for a second longer, then turns around, “Can you restock some of the coke products? We’re running low on cold cans.”

Grantaire nods, “Sure.”

Musichetta regards him curiously, and he holds her gaze, as if waiting for the elephant in the room to blow it’s trunk. She doesn’t break.

“Oh come on,” Grantaire eventually snaps, and she tilts her head.

“What?”

“I mean- every single one of the extended friend group we belong to knows about, well-.”

“About what, Grantaire?” Chetta prods, placing a hand on her hips. “We don’t have all night, Thierry is out there on bar all alone.”

“Oh, you _know_!” Grantaire accuses her, and she quirks a brow.

“Do I?”

“Enjolras. And me,” he says, finally.

“Hmm, I _did_ hear something interesting about you and Enjolras over the weekend, didn’t I?” Chetta says, and she’s smiling slowly. “A little birdy told me, actually. And I did not, mind you, hear it from my dear sweet friend Grantaire, which is oh so curious indeed…”

“Chetta,” Grantaire whines.

“I don’t know _why_ you were hiding it from me, Grantaire,” Musichetta says, but there’s humor in her voice, so at least there’s that, “we usually tell each other everything, so I don’t get the all the secrecy.”

Grantaire just makes an exaggerated shrugging motion. “I don’t know. I guess I just…,” he continues to wave his arms. “I don’t know.”

“I’m not mad, I don’t care who you sleep with, R. If anything it just feels sort of weird to be left out of the loop on stuff like this,” Chetta shrugs, and Grantaire feels his heart descend slowly into his stomach.

“I’m sorry, I just- it’s new,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, and Chetta smiles.

“That’s fair. As long as you’re happy, y’know,” she assures him, “We really should get out there. Thierry will have our necks.”

“Yeah, probably,” Grantaire says, but he takes a moment to hug Musichetta while simultaneously feeling incredibly guilty for all the details he’s omitting even now.

Chetta hugs him back and smiles, then reminds him about the coke products he needs to put out, and the two of them get to work for real this time.

They chitchat during the shift, but Grantaire avoids the topic of his change in relationship with Enjolras. He knows if he explains their whole fuckbuddy thing, Musichetta will want to talk about his feelings on the matter. Obviously, there’s nothing wrong with casual sex or fucking without romantic attachment, but Grantaire’s feelings for Enjolras could be seen from space- by anyone that wasn’t Enjolras himself, at least, therefore…

He doesn’t want Musichetta to know the extent to what he’s gotten himself into.

That, in and of itself, will probably blow up in his face just like his relationship with Enjolras inevitably will but- 

That’s a problem for future R.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ps this au takes place in some sort of alternative corona-free universe where Bridgerton is like.. still a thing I guess lmao?


	9. Chapter 9

It’s been a week since they started fucking, and they’re still going strong. Grantaire slept over from Sunday to Monday, and then again on Wednesday to Thursday. They went out Friday, like usual, but Enjolras only had eyes for him at the club and they left together after maybe 2 drinks and fucked well into the morning.

Which leaves them at Saturday afternoon, back in Enjolras’ bedroom after breakfast with Combeferre and Courfeyrac, who have been acting much less weird, thank God.

Enjolras has some movie he’s been meaning to watch for research purposes, and it’s admittedly pretty dry, but they snuggle up on his bed to watch it anyway and Grantaire can pretend, momentarily, that this might mean something to Enjolras.

They remain cuddling as the credits start to roll, and Enjolras beings to speak,

“Y’know,” he says conversationally, “obviously I have no issue with hookup culture.”

“Really?” Grantaire lifts his head, Enjolras’ fingers still carding through his hair. He’s honestly surprised it has nothing to do with the boring documentary they just watched. “I never would have guessed.”

“Hush.”

Grantaire laughs, once.

“Anyway,” Enjolras starts, and Grantaire rests his head again, on Enjolras’ chest “I _like_ \- for lack of a better way to put it, being a slut. It’s fun to have hookups. But I do also think people tend to overhype it, you know? At the end of the day, it’s just another way to have sex. It’s not always this electrifying, amazing thing, it _can_ be awkward sometimes, and it can get boring.”

“Mmmh,” Grantaire hums, to show he’s listening.

“For instance, I’m way more excited to have sex with you than I have been to have sex with anyone in ages, _because_ I get to have sex on a regular basis with the same person.”

Grantaire breathes in a laugh, and tries to ignore the fluttering of the butterflies in his stomach when Enjolras says he’s excited to have sex with him. “Oh, you’re excited to have sex with me? Couldn’t tell,” Grantaire tells him, and Enjolras scoffs.

Then, Enjolras pulls his hair, lightly, to get him to look up. Grantaire does so, and Enjolras leans to kiss him, heated.

Grantaire kisses back, even though he’s straining his neck at an uncomfortable angle. When they do part, he shifts, and then kisses Enjolras once before climbing into his lap instead.

Enjolras’ hands come to his lower back, then slide to his ass, pulling him forward.

“You, on the other hand, are just put to sleep by the idea of fucking me,” Enjolras says against his lips, and Grantaire laughs, tilting back.

“Dead bored of you,” Grantaire promises, as Enjolras ducks his head to kiss his neck. Grantaire brings his hands to Enjolras’ hair this time, twisting his fingers through and sighing at the feel of Enjolras’ tongue on his skin.

Grantaire doesn’t know where _either_ of them get the energy, especially not since they are both night owls with a penchant for putting off sleep until they have no choice in the matter.

Still, he shuts his eyes as Enjolras kisses down to his collar where his shirt meets his skin, and squeezes his thighs with his hand.

“Hey,” Enjolras says. “Y’know how I was saying I want to do some things without condoms?”

“You mean other than fingering?” Grantaire asks, and Enjolras nods. “Whattaya want, boo?”

“I want you to cum in my mouth,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire bites his lip.

“Okay,” Grantaire says.

“Also- this is incredibly dependent on how you feel about it and I will not push the issue if you say no,” Enjolras continues on.

“Try me, Enj.”

“I want,” Enjolras blushes, and takes a breath, “I also want to cum in your mouth, and then for you to kiss me, without swallowing first,” he says slowly, and Grantaire glances up him up and down.

“Yes,” Grantaire says, and Enjolras breathes in again and then pulls him in for another hot kiss, licking into his mouth almost aggressively.

Grantaire doesn’t mind one bit, pulling Enjolras hair again and matching his intensity. He rocks his hips forward and they both moan as Enjolras slides his hand to Grantaire’s ass again.

A moment later, Grantaire breaks the kiss and pulls back, and Enjolras frowns at him, but Grantaire just moves back to the edge of the bed and gets off it, then reaches for Enjolras’ thighs.

“Did you mean, like, right now, with the thing you wanted to do?”

“If you’re comfortable, I mean- yeah,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire nods.

“C’mere, Enj,” Grantaire says, and Enjolras scoots over to the edge of the bed along with him, and they move to get his pants down, and grab a bottle of lube. They each take off their shirts, while they’re at it.

“I was going to suck _you_ off,” Enjolras points out.

“You can return the favor _after_ ,” Grantaire says, on his knees with his hand on Enjolras’ bare thighs.

“Wait,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire leans back, glancing up at him. Enjolras picks up his pillows, and hand them over. “You shouldn’t have to kneel right on the floor. I don't even have carpet.”

Grantaire rolls his eyes, but he knows he’ll appreciate it anyway. “Can you let me get my mouth on your cock now?”

“Yes, R,” Enjolras says, but Grantaire kisses up his thighs, and then leans back to pour out some lube before taking Enjolras’ cock in his hand and jerking him slowly a few times.

“Fuck,” Enjolras breathes, and Grantaire looks up at him with a little smirk. Grantaire isn’t quite that patient, not when what he wants is within reach, so he doesn’t make Enjolras way for it.

Grantaire gets a little bit closer and sticks out his tongue to lick up the side of Enjolras’ cock, hearing him moan softly.

Enjolras slips his fingers through Grantaire’s hair. Grantaire takes Enjolras into his mouth, still holding the base of his cock with one hand, his other hand on the inside of Enjolras’ thigh.

“Grantaire,” Enjolras murmurs, and Grantaire adores the sound of his name on those lips. He looks up at Enjolras and sucks around his cock, then bobs back down and swirls his tongue around the head. Enjolras groans, and Grantaire goes down on him again, shutting his eyes for a moment.

He can feel Enjolras’ grip tighten on his hair as he bobs up and down on Enjolras’ cock a few times, quickly, then hollows out his cheeks.

“Fuck,” Enjolras says again, and Grantaire pulls off him again to smirk up, twisting his wrists a couple times and holding his foreskin back a bit to kiss the tip of his cock. Grantaire takes Enjolras back into his mouth, all the way, and sucks him deep.

Enjolras’ breath hitches and Grantaire continues on. Even in their short time together, he’s learned some things Enjolras likes just by watching his reactions- Enjolras is pretty clear in what he likes, and he will also say things like “I liked it when you did X, could you try Y” during their post-sex cuddles, like a communicative dork.

“R,” Enjolras says again, and then tightens his grip on his hair. “I’m close.”

“Mmmmm,” Grantaire pulls back. “You’re supposed to come in my mouth, remember, baby?”

“R,” Enjolras says again, then hisses, “I know.”

Grantaire chuckles, low, and then closes his lips around Enjolras’ cock again and sucks him down once more.

“God, Grantaire,” Enjolras gasps, and twists his free hand on the bedsheets. Grantaire doesn’t relent, glancing up at his face.

Enjolras bites down on his lip as he cums, and Grantaire resists the urge to swallow, then pushes himself off his knees. Enjolras reaches for him, and, they kiss.

With his tongue, Grantaire pushes Enjolras’ cum into his mouth, hearing Enjolras moan in the back of his throat as it coats their tongue and they both break off to swallow.

Grantaire laughs lightly, although he’s not sure why. Enjolras' arms are tight around his shoulders, and he just kisses him a few more times before laughing as well.

“You liked it?” Grantaire asks, perking a brow but not really meaning to mock. Enjolras nods.

“Did you?”

“It was fun,” Grantaire tells him, and then Enjolras reaches for his cup of water from earlier and takes a sip, then passes it to Grantaire, who stands up straight. Grantaire drinks the rest, and then places the cup down.

With that, Enjolras starts to kiss Grantaire’s abdomen. “Wanna switch places?” Enjolras asks, and Grantaire smirks.

“Sure thing,” he says. They move to take off Grantaire’s pants, and then they shuffle around until Enjolras is on his knees in front of R.

“You’re so sexy,” Grantaire says, voice low, and Enjolras smiles up coyly.

“So are you,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire’s breath catches as Enjolras kisses up his thighs.

“Eh,” Grantaire says, shrugging a shoulder.

“You’re breathtaking,” Enjolras says more firmly, and Grantaire rolls his eyes.

“Don’t you have a cock to suck?” Grantaire asks, and Enjolras chuckles.

“Patience.”

“Regrettably, not a virtue I was blessed with,” Grantaire says, and Enjolras laughs again, and picks up the lube, then continues to kiss up Grantaire’s thighs as he pours some into his hand and strokes Grantaire’s cock.

For all his talk, Enjolras doesn’t make Grantaire wait very long. He holds Grantaire’s cock in a fist, and swirls his tongue around the head.

Grantaire holds Enjolras’ hair in a fist, something he knows Enjolras likes, actually. Once Enjolras is sucking his cock in earnest, Grantaire nudges his hips forward just a bit, and Enjolras moves with him to take his cock deeper and hums around him.

Like Enjolras before him, Grantaire gives a warning before he cums, and Enjolras shuts his eyes and swallows.

“Fuck,” Grantaire groans, and Enjolras flicks his eyes back up before sliding off Grantaire’s cock with a Ludacris noise.

“I want you to fuck me,” Enjolras says, climbing back up to kiss Grantaire.

“Jesus, give me a minute,” Grantaire says, bringing his hand to Enjolras’ neck and kissing him back. “I’d love to, baby, but I’ll need the ability to get hard again first.”

“Mmmh, no rush, I was just putting it out there,” Enjolras says. “Also… could I, say, bottom from the top?” Enjolras asks, and Grantaire kisses him again.

“Anything you want.”

Enjolras smiles, and kisses him again. “You know, if there’s anything _you_ want to try, you can always let me know. I’m a very open-minded person.”

Grantaire laughs quietly, “Noted.”

Then, they lie down on the bed, cuddling and kissing a little more slowly, until Grantaire suggests he prep Enjolras and they get started with that.

Just down the hall, Courfeyrac is holding a wooden spoon and stirring some tomato sauce on the stove, a dejected frown on his face.

“Hey,” Marius greets, as Combeferre slices some bread. “Why the long faces?”

At once, they all hear Enjolras down the hall calling out, “ _Grantaire!”_

Marius winces. “Ah. That’s never gonna stop being awkward, huh?” he laughs.

“It’s not fair,” Courfeyrac whines, and Marius perks a brow. Courfeyrac sighs into his pasta sauce, despondent. 

Combeferre taps Courfeyrac out of the way, and puts the bread into the oven as Courferyrac brings his pot over to the counter.

“I am _just_ as pretty as Enjolras,” Courfeyrac says, and Combeferre nods solemnly.

“You are, but… what’s that got to do with anything, again?” Marius asks.

There are a few more obnoxiously loud moans from down the hall, and Marius watches as Combeferre glances wistfully towards the door.

“You haven’t noticed? Courf and I were trying to get Grantaire to sleep with us for, like, a month or two now.”

“Oh,” Marius says, looking taken aback.

“It’s not _fair._ Enjolras didn’t even want to fuck him until he asked,” Courfeyrac whines.

“Did _you_ happen to ask Grantaire to sleep with you, by any chance?” Marius asks, leaning on the half-wall in front of the counters.

“Well- we asked him to come snuggle in bed with us,” Courfeyrac says, and then grumbles at another loud shout from the hall.

“Okay, but- you’d ask almost anyone to come snuggle with you, Courf,” Marius says gently, and Courfeyrac scowls.

“We should have listened to JMB,” Combeferre admits. 

“You told JMB?” Marius asks, “And then you _didn’t_ follow their advice? They’re literally a polycule, and Grantaire’s best friends.”

“We know,” Combeferre says. “It’s just- we thought being direct might scare him off. But then he outright asked Enjolras to start fucking him casually, so I guess we were wrong.”

“You useless fucking gays,” Marius mutters, and Courfeyrac glares at him.

“Um, you’re way too straight to say that! I’m gonna tell Enjolras when he’s done getting dicked down.”

“Please do not,” Marius says, actually paling a little.

“As long as you promise not to tell _anybody_ about our crush on Grantaire,” Combeferre says, and Marius nods. 

“You secret is safe with me,” Marius promises. “Also, no offense but, uh. Get well soon.”

“Fuck off,” Courfeyrac says, and Marius just smiles before grabbing an apple and heading back down to his room.


	10. Chapter 10

“Do you wanna come over again after your shift on Monday?” Enjolras asks, his nose in Grantaire’s hair. It’s another Saturday, one of the few he doesn’t work, and Grantaire just told Enjolras he agreed to dinner with Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta on Sunday, and needs to work on Monday.

“I don’t get off until 11pm,” Grantaire says.

Enjolras smirks, “Well I don’t get off until you’re here.”

Grantaire snorts at him, then lowers his voice, “Oh, so you never touch yourself, to thoughts of us together?”

“Of course I do,” Enjolras kisses him, “I was just kidding.”

“Right,” Grantaire says, and he’s blushing. He’s going to file that thought away for later. “Anyway. Is 11 too late?”

“No, I usually don’t get to sleep until 2am anyway,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire kisses him, this time.

“Okay,” Grantaire says.

After a bit more face sucking, Grantaire reluctantly pries himself out of Enjolras’ arms. He slept over from Friday to Saturday, but he really shouldn’t stay two nights in a row, even if it’s his rare Saturday off.

Enjolras had all kinds of rules to stop himself from falling for men (and to stop men from falling for him, of course), but Grantaire clearly has no sense of the same self-preservation.

“See you Monday, R,” Enjolras says, pulling him in for one last kiss at the door of his bedroom. Grantaire wants to push Enjolras back onto his bed and jump on him again, but he gives a little smile and turns away.

Instead, Grantaire goes home and texts with Jehan, and Joly, then finds a movie to watch on his own. He spends some time painting, bright red flowers set in a navy blue vase, with a deep green background. Nothing too complicated, just something to occupy his hands and mind.

The next day, he spends a lot of his time just resting. In a sense, he’s been doing a lot more physical activity lately. Eventually, he gets ready and goes over to Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta’s place.

It’s starting to snow, and the holidays will soon be upon them, but not many people in their group of friends celebrate too much.

Grantaire hangs his jacket on the crowded coat rack, almost knocks over Joly’s cane before righting it again, and then heads into the living room.

“So!” Bossuet says as the four of them settle on the couch. Dinner will be ready in another thirty minutes, the pasta sauce is being left to simmer.

“So?” Grantaire takes the bait, and three pairs of eyes are suddenly on him. He sighs.

“You and Enjolras,” Bossuet says, and Grantaire remembers why he was putting this off.

“That’s old news, it’s been, like, two weeks,” Grantaire waves his hand.

“And yet you haven’t found time to spend with us! But I hear from Combeferre you’re over at his like, three times a week,” Joly says, lifting a glass of water as he points at Grantaire. Grantaire scoffs.

“We’re not giving him that _dick_ ,” Musichetta points out, and her boyfriends cackle.

“Fuck all you.”

“Enjolras probably wouldn’t like that!” Bossuet says, and Grantaire rolls his eyes.

“Well… we _aren’t_ exclusive, but,” Grantaire shrugs, and Joly perks a brow.

“No?”

Grantaire tries to go for nonchalance, and succeeds, “Nah. I mean, we agreed to tell each other if we’re going to sleep with other people... but not _strictly_ exclusive.”

“Ah,” Bossuet says, and his friends share a glance. “And you’re cool with that?”

“Yeah,” Grantaire says, taking a sip of the wine he was poured upon stepping inside.

“You’re certain?” Musichetta asks, and Grantaire frowns.

“Yeah,” he repeats. “It’s fine, I know what I’m getting into,” Grantaire insists. He does _know_ what he’s gotten himself into. It’s just not exactly wise, on his part.

“Okay,” Joly says slowly.

“I doubt either of us _will_ sleep with anybody else,” Grantaire waves his hand. “Anyway. How’s school, JB?”

“Oh, exhausting,” Joly says, and Bossuet sighs. Joly launches into some med school stories, and it sounds exhausting indeed.

Grantaire drinks his wine down steadily. He doesn’t comprehend how _any_ of his friends stick through the schooling they’re doing, with most of his friends being either med students or law students, save for a few of them like Eponine, Courfeyrac, and Musichetta herself. 

Musichetta shakes her head at the same times as he does. Grantaire would hate to be responsible for an entire business, too, though.

When the timer goes off, they shuffle into the dining room, and Bossuet gets them all plates of pasta, then brings over the salad bowl. They eat, and talk, and laugh, and after dessert they wander back into the living room to chat for another couple hours.

Grantaire leaves his friends’ place feeling lighter than he came. It’s always nice to hang out with them, he really should dedicate more time to his friends, even if they’re fully understanding that adulthood is busy and friends can’t practically live with each other all the time the way they could when they were younger. Life happens and new relationships are formed.

Still, he appreciates them.

\--

As promised, on Monday night, Grantaire shows up at Chez Les Amis a little before midnight. Despite all the rest and lounging over the weekend, he’s pretty tired.

He accepts a kiss from Enjolras at the door, and hangs up his jacket next to the red wool coat Enjolras cracked out of storage, as he does every year-or so Grantaire is told. 

“Hey,” Enjolras says, “how was work?”

“Slow, but still loud,” Grantaire says, and Enjolras nods. “Also, exhausting.”

Enjolras wraps his arms around Grantaire’s waist, “Sorry that I’m keeping you from sleeping in your own bed. If you wanted, you could always tell me no.”

“I would never,” Grantaire laughs, and it’s a little too truthful. Enjolras places a hand on his cheek and kisses him.

“I hope that’s not true. I wouldn’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with for my sake,” Enjolras laughs lightly, and Grantaire swallows because he knows Enjolras is serious.

“I know,” Grantaire murmurs, and they kiss one more time.

Then, the two of them trail up the stairs and towards Enjolras’ bedroom, then collapse on his bed together.

“Hey,” Grantaire says slowly, as Enjolras kisses down his neck and he tugs on Enjolras’ hair in response.

“Hmm?”

“How do you feel about, perhaps, being on top sometime?” Grantaire asks, and Enjolras’ eyes flick up and down his body.

Enjolras smiles, coy, “I’d like that. If you want to.”

Grantaire nods, biting his lip. Enjolras kisses him.

“Do you want it tonight?” Enjolras asks, voice just barely a whisper against Grantaire’s lips.

“Only if you want,” Grantaire says, his nails scratching Enjolras’ bicep where his hand lay.

“Mmhm,” Enjolras nods, and their lips meet once more. A lot of their kisses are still hot, and heavy, but much of the time they’ve become short and sweet too.

“Okay,” Grantaire breathes. Enjolras sits up so he can slip his hands under Grantaire’s shirt and push it up over his head, before pulling his deep burgundy sweater off, too.

Running his hands up Enjolras chest, Grantaire takes him in.

Enjolras is just as beautiful now as the first moment he laid eyes on him. Love at first sight was a stupid concept, until it applied to him, listening to Enjolras give an impassioned speech in front of a government building.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Grantaire tells him, and Enjolras smiles, then takes Grantaire’s hand to kiss his palm.

“And you’re beautiful,” Enjolras replies, and Grantaire filters it out. Then, Enjolras drops Grantaire’s hand to unbuckle his belt, and they start to move to get their clothes off the rest of the way.

God, Grantaire just wants to tell Enjolras he loves him, as Enjolras fixes him with a gaze that is too soft and far too sweet. He can’t say shit like that, because that would fuck everything up, but he wants to.

“How do you want to do this?” Enjolras asks, pulling out the lube and condoms.

“From behind,” Grantaire says. No way _he_ could cope with Enjolras staring into his eyes as he fucks him, even if they’ve done it the other way around a few times now. “I can do the, uh, prep.”

Enjolras furrows his brows, “You’d prefer to?”

Grantaire shrugs.

“Get on your knees,” Enjolras tells him, lifting his chin. “I’ll take care of it.”

Grantaire just breathes in slowly and moves into position as Enjolras kneels behind him.

Grantaire shuts his eyes as he feels Enjolras run his hands down his back and over his ass, then kiss the base of his spine. Grantaire makes a soft noise when he feels Enjolras’ finger at the edge of his hole, easing into him slowly.

“Let me know if anything hurts, if you want it slower- or faster,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire nods.

“Got it, Enj.”

“You really are breathtaking,” Enjolras observes, and Grantaire groans. Enjolras works his finger in further.

“Shut up,” Grantaire says, and Enjolras laughs quietly.

“Why? Are you shy?”

“Fuck you.”

Enjolras laughs a little more, thrusting his finger in and out slowly. Grantaire breathes out, twisting his hands in the bedsheets.

After that, Enjolras continues on gently, making sure to take his time to work up to two fingers, and then three. Grantaire could probably encourage him to go a little faster, but he doesn’t bother.

“This is good,” he eventually chokes, “Enj, please, fuck me.”

Enjolras leans down to kiss his back again, and the moves to grab a condom and use more lube.

Grantaire shuts his eyes again and gasps when Enjolras thrusts into him slowly, the sound of Enjolras’ moan running through him, as if he could get any more turned on anyway.

“You good, R?” Enjolras asks, and Grantaire nods.

“Yeah,” he says, so Enjolras starts fucking into him gently. Grantaire gasps, and moans, “fuck, Enjolras.”

“Jesus,” Enjolras mutters, his hands white hot on Grantaire’s back and down at his hip, holding him steady as he thrusts a little harder.

It's not quite enough. Grantaire arches his back and pushes back against him, “God, harder, Enjolras.”

“Mmmh,” Enjolras hums, and does as requested. He picks up the speed, too, and Grantaire’s breath hitches.

“Fuck,” Grantaire cries, and he feels Enjolras’ hand slide to the front of his thigh.

“Can I touch you, R?”

“Yes, god.”

Enjolras smiles as he wraps his hand around Grantaire’s cock, and Grantaire hangs his head, gripping the sheets of the bed a little tighter.

Enjolras thrusts a little harder and faster still, stroking Grantaire’s cock at the same pace as they both moan.

“Enjolras,” Grantaire gasps, screwing his eyes shut tight as he cums.

And after that, Enjolras groans Grantaire’s name as well, following suit quickly. He slowly pulls out, and Grantaire lets himself fall on the bed with zero regard for the mess that could surely make.

Enjolras gets up to do away with the condom, and then grab a hand towel

“R,” he says, and Grantaire lifts his head, then slowly pushes himself up. Enjolras leans over the bed to kiss him. “Before we sleep, I think I’ll change out the sheets.”

“You know, you must produce an awful lot of water waste,” Grantaire points out, and Enjolras narrows his eyes at him.

“ _We_ produce an awful lot of water waste. You’re equally at fault at this point,” Enjolras says.

“Yeah, the thing is, I don’t give a shit,” Grantaire says, and Enjolras frowns.

“Water conservation is important, when possible,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire just shakes his head and kisses him again.

“Mhm, I know.”

“Then you do care?”

“Maybe marginally. Not as much as you, baby,” Grantaire laughs.

“Sadly, I’m hard-pressed to find anyone who cares as much at times,” Enjolras says, voice both both dejected and light. Grantaire traces a finger down his chest.

He’s not sure why he says what he says next. It’s a mistake, that’s all he knows. “At least I care about you.”

Enjolras breathes in, and Grantaire glances up, and then away. Enjolras’ face didn’t betray shock or disgust, but Grantaire still can’t stand to look for more than a second. He gently pushes Enjolras away so he can stand up, and then grab his underwear.

“Hey,” Enjolras says, “do you want me to throw your clothes in the laundry in the morning? You can just wear a pair of my sweatpants to bed. Also, you have a shirt here from last week, I think, so I was just going to put that in too.”

“Oh,” Grantaire says, and then he shrugs. “Okay.”

Enjolras tosses him a pair of grey sweats, and pulls a pair of boxers on, then gathers the laundry together into a pile as Grantaire heads to the bathroom.

Some minutes later, Grantaire is once again laying in Enjolras’ arms, his hair being playing with as he falls asleep.

“Goodnight, R,” Enjorlas says, and Grantaire murmurs back at him.

The next morning finds them up a little early, and in the kitchen. Enjolras made them coffee, so Grantaire is currently nursing his cup as he stands, leaning against Enjolras at the counter, because Enjolras has a vice-like grip around his waist.

Enjolras is scrolling on his phone, dropping a kiss on Grantaire’s head every now and then as some fake-bacon waits in the oven.

Grantaire doesn’t really know what to do other than stand there, sip his coffee, and be held. He _could_ go grab some eggs or pop bread in the toaster, but Enjolras is always so weirdly clingy and Grantaire refuses to discourage it. Just another act of self-sabotage, of course. 

“Good morning!” Courfeyrac greets, and Enjolras looks over from his phone.

“Hey,” Enjolras smiles, and Courfeyrac smiles back.

“R, do you know what days you’ll be coming over next week, by any chance?” Courfeyrac asks, pouring himself some of the leftover coffee.

“Uhh, not really? Usually I just lay in wait for my royal summons to come via text,” Grantaire says with a bit of flare, glancing over at Enjolras, who scowls and shakes him by the middle.

“Call me royalty one more time, I swear.”

“Oh, and what will you do about it?” Grantaire asks, twisting to place his coffee cup down as Enjolras leans down and bites his shoulder. “Hey!”

“Anyway,” Courfeyrac says, pouring some non-dairy creamer into his coffee, “if you do get an idea, let me know. Ferre and I are doing the meal planning for next week, and if there’s anything in particular you want for the days you’ll be over here, I can make sure to include it.”

Grantaire blinks, as Enjolras kisses his neck one more time then lifts his head. “That is… very nice of you,” Grantaire says, “uh. I’m good with whatever, though, you don’t have to worry about it.”

“It’s no trouble. We keep a list of things everyone likes on our shared OneNote, so if you want to let me know I can just throw stuff into the roster,” Courfeyrac says, and Grantaire nods dumbly.

“That’s a good idea,” Enjolras comments, and Courfeyrac smiles brightly.

“I know, I am just _so_ nice, huh?”

“You are,” Enjolras agrees, and Courfeyrac chuckles.

Combeferre joins them a moment later, greeting Courfeyrac with a kiss before finishing off the pot of coffee.

Enjolras eventually lets go of Grantaire, and they toast some bagels to eat with the fake bacon, but not before offering to do the same for Courfeyrac and Combeferre, and the four of them sit at the table to eat.

Enjolras has most of his classes in the afternoon and evening, because he’s such a night owl anyway, and Grantaire’s shifts at the bar tend to happen within the same timeframe. On Tuesdays they have meeting with the ABC, so Enjolras suggests they hang out until it’s time for that.

That leaves them on the couch, with Grantaire lying naked between Enjolras’ legs because Marius, Courfeyrac, and Combeferre are out of the house.

“Another fun thing about having a consistent sexual partner,” Enjolras says, brushing the back of his knuckles on Grantaire’s shoulder, “we can occasionally have sex outside of my bedroom.”

“How very exciting,” Grantaire comments, leaning up to kiss him on the chin. Enjolras smirks, and kisses his nose. Grantaire’s stomach does a flip, as always.

They’re quiet, for a few moments, before Enjolras sighs. “We should shower, and I need to review the agenda before the meeting. We have a couple hours before we really need to go, but…”

Grantaire whines, but he starts to move slowly. “We could always shower together. It will save time.”

“And water,” Enjolras points out.

“That’ll make up for all the laundry you do,” Grantaire smirks, and Enjolras’ eyes widen.

“Shit, I forgot we were doing laundry,” Enjolras moves to stand, then leans down to grab his underwear and pull them on. Grantaire laughs. “I’ll go throw our stuff in the dryer, I’ll meet you in the shower.”

“Kay,” Grantaire stretches, and pulls Enjolras’ sweatpants back on just long enough to get to the bathroom, although they’re still home alone.

As promised, Enjolras steps into the shower with him not long after. They kiss, and touch, but it doesn’t get any heavier than that for once.

Enjolras washes his hair with his head bent forward and when Grantaire questions him about it, Enjolras insists it helps with his curls. He coats his hair in conditioner, and then grabs the shampoo again to run his hands through Grantaire’s hair instead.

Grantaire breathes in and shuts his eyes, feeling Enjolras work his fingers over his scalp. This is insane, and Grantaire should probably stop him before he falls even further in love, but it’s no use. Instead, he focuses on the sensation and tries to keep his heartrate in check.

“Do you condition?” Enjolras asks, and his voice sounds teasing.

“Can’t you tell? I’m not a heathen,” Grantaire takes a peek at him and scoffs, “just the ends, though. My scalp is a little prone to oil.”

Enjolras laughs in response, “Fair.”

When Enjolras finishes, Grantaire rinses his hair under the water and tries to ignore Enjolras’ hand skimming along his thigh as he grabs the conditioner.

They spend another few minutes washing up, and then rinsing out their hair one final time, before they step out of the shower.

The rest of the afternoon is spent with Enjolras doing meeting prep, and then getting a headstart on some reading while Grantaire scrolls through social media and reddit, until they have to get ready to go to the group meeting.

“Hey, when do you want to come over next?” Enjolras asks, pulling on his red jacket as they’re about to leave his house.

Grantaire shrugs, “I’m good whenever. Do you still want to go out on Friday?”

“Hm,” Enjolras tilts his head. “Honestly, going out was mostly just a place to meet up with men from apps- an easy way to stay consistent so I didn’t have to try to schedule different times and places. We can go out to dance if you want, but, you could also just come straight over.”

“It’s impossible for me to come _straight_ over, but,” Grantaire smirks, and Enjolras stares at him.

“Hilarious.”

“Thank you,” Grantaire says, and then he laughs as Enjolras shakes his head. “Anyway, I can come over Friday, then.”

“Good,” Enjolras says, and then he kisses him, and finally opens the door to leave the house. 


	11. Chapter 11

<< **Would you like to come to the museum with me before the meeting on Thursday? I have a few hours free after a lunch meeting and I’ve been meaning to go.**

When he hears the buzzing, Grantaire looks up from his canvas and picks up his phone. He sticks his paintbrush in his mouth so he can respond.

> **sure sounds fun. uuh which museum?**

Grantaire puts his phone back down and takes his brush out of his mouth, then dabs it in the color he needs.

His painting may or may not be a blond-haired man, half-naked, gazing at a river.

When he checks his phone, Enjolras has texted him details and also announced that he’s pre-purchased them tickets. Grantaire smiles at his phone and thanks him, then returns to his painting.

It’s not perfect. His reference isn’t… well, it’s not _Enjolras_ himself, therefore it’s subpar. He can’t ask Enjolras to pose for a painting, though, so he can only work from memory and references.

Grantaire sighs and grabs a scarf before going out to his balcony to smoke a joint. Tuesday is one of his nights off, along with Friday, so he often spends it either lounging and smoking or painting and smoking. A lot of the times, it’s a combination of all three in different order.

As of late, he’s been over at Enjolras’ place most nights, but Enjolras is supposedly studying tonight.

Studying, and inviting Grantaire to a museum out of nowhere, apparently.

Grantaire actively refuses to read into it. Enjolras is a surprisingly clingy fuckbuddy, that much was distinguished very early on. He hasn’t once followed any of his usual “hookup” rules with Grantaire, and they _are_ friends, especially now. He probably just wants to hang out and, hey, he knows Grantaire likes art.

When the morning before his not-date arrives, Eponine is much less convinced.

“I would never want to encourage you to assume Enjolras has feelings for you.”

“Jesus Christ, Ep.”

“It’s a fast-track to heartbreak, Grantaire. It’s best you stay grounded in the least-hopeful scenario. But, this is… weird, isn’t it?” Eponine muses, “a museum is a very date-like activity.”

“I know.. But Enjolras is an intense weirdo. A beautiful, radiant, God-like intense weirdo. He probably just wants to see some art.”

“Right,” Eponine says, sipping from her frozen beverage despite the snow falling outside the window. “I mean, I guess you’ll just have to see how he behaves while you’re there, and report back immediately.”

“I guess,” Grantaire agrees, then he checks the time on his phone. “I should take this to-go,” Grantaire mutters, and then he pulls a travel mug out of his bag.

Eponine tilts her head back to laugh a little, “Can’t believe he has you lugging stuff like that around.”

“It’s better for the environment,” Grantaire says in a mocking voice, but he pours his coffee from the mug provided by the café into his travel mug instead, and Eponine laughs at him.

“You’re fucking whipped.”

“We all knew that. Anyway. Time to get my heart crushed at a museum.”

“Bye,” Eponine calls as Grantaire slings his bag over his shoulder and drops his mug on the tray for dirty dishes on his way out.

Grantaire has snow stuck to his beanie and the ends of his hair by the time he meets Enjolras at the entrance of the museum, who is standing there as a brilliant shock of red in the falling snow, contrasted against the tall silver building.

“Hey,” Enjolras greets him with a kiss on the cheek and a hand on his waist, then he takes out his phone for the tickets.

“Hi,” Grantaire replies. Enjolras puts an arm around him to walk inside.

Enjolras shows their tickets at the counter and Grantaire picks up a map, although he knows the layout of the museum relatively well anyway.

“Anywhere in particular you want to go?” Enjolras asks, and Grantaire almost points out that Enjolras was the one to ask him here, so he should decide.

“Yes,” Grantaire says instead, and he takes Enjolras’ hand to drag him to the top floor for the feature exhibit. He always goes to check out the new and temporary things first, before settling on the third floor to look at his favourite classics, then hop down to the statues on the first floor.

“Oh, I almost forgot this was the reason I’d been meaning to come,” Enjolras says excitedly as Grantaire opens the map to read about the special exhibit.

It’s showcasing the works of two local Indigenous artists, and explores the connection between land and people. It’s impossible to miss the political nature of the pieces, and Enjolras is _very_ happy to slowly move through the floor, reading the placards and talking about the work.

Grantaire squeezes Enjolras’ hand, or his elbow, or his side as they move about, because it seems like to matter what Enjolras insists they have a point of contact somewhere at all times. Grantaire isn’t complaining, of course, though it makes his heart ache.

“Where next?” Enjolras asks as they return to the staircase, leaning over Grantaire to see the map.

“Down one floor,” Grantaire tells him, so they head down.

Again, they move slowly through the section, this this time Grantaire leading the way and pointing out something about one of his favourite pieces, which ends up being a five minute speech as Enjolras listens quietly and attentively. 

That happens at least twice more before Grantaire suggests they sit for a minute. Enjolras readily agrees.

They only have an hour and a half left when they land on the two-seater benches in his favourite room, but Grantaire reaches for his sketchbook anyway. He settles in a weird pose that should probably be uncomfortable, and places his sketchbook on his knee, facing Enjolras.

Enjolras is staring at some of the art on the wall, and Grantaire can’t resist but do a quick sketch of his face, not bothering to call attention to it or ask permission.

“I would die to see Liberty Leading the People in person,” Enjolras say, out of nowhere, and Grantaire snorts.

“I’ll take you to Paris someday,” Grantaire says, “the Louvre may be overrated, but I’d still kill to go.”

“It would be nice to visit France, if I had the time,” Enjolras admits. “You really consider the _Louvre_ overrated?” Enjolras looks over at him, and Grantaire pouts at the loss of the pose Enjolras had been in, thank God he’s already captured his nose and forehead, but he’d only just started on those dazzling eyes.

“It _is_ ,” Grantaire insists, and Enjolras leans over him slightly. Grantaire holds his sketchbook to his chest.

“What are you drawing?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I did just ask you,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire narrows his eyes. Enjolras holds his gaze, but huffs and looks away. “Fine, fine.”

Grantaire slowly lowers his sketchbook again, and pencils in the general shape of Enjolras’ eyes, then adds to his lips. They’re slightly chapped from the weather, no matter how much of his homemade lip balm he applies constantly, and Grantaire knows this because he kisses him almost daily. His heart aches. 

Enjolras leans on the armrest on his other side, then glances over at Grantaire as Grantaire is looking down at his sketchbook. He smiles, slowly, until Grantaire looks up and catches him staring, and presses his book to his chest again.

“I wasn’t looking at your drawing,” Enjolras promises, and Grantaire just glares at him.

Enjolras looks away again, and Grantaire stares at him for another moment, then he goes back to Enjolras’ eyes once more, since he’s finally looking the same direction as he was when Grantaire started the sketch.

“If we’re going to see anything else, we should probably head there soon. Unless you want to sit here until we leave,” Enjolras says, but he says it like the second thing is actually an option, should Grantaire want to.

“I’m just about done. Look forward again,” Grantaire says with only a glance up, and Enjolras obeys him for some reason.

Grantaire pencils in his hair, and adds a couple more lashes to Enjolras’ eye, making sure they’re full enough to represent reality without losing the shape because he added too many. He hums, and then picks up his pencil case to put the pencil away.

“Okay,” Grantaire says, and Enjolras looks at him with a curious expression. Grantaire turns his book over and tucks some of his hair behind his ear, showing Enjolras the sketch.

“Oh,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire rolls his eyes.

“Nothing could compare to the real thing, obviously, but the lighting is nice in here,” Grantaire explains, “and it was a good chance to catch your profile.”

“It’s, uh, nice,” Enjolras nods. “You’re very talented, R.”

“Thanks,” Grantaire shrugs. “I should really get involved in exhibiting again, or re-open commissions.”

“You should,” Enjolras stresses, and Grantaire lifts his shoulder again. “I should commission a painting of Chez Les Amis to hang in the living room, that would be funny.”

Grantaire laughs, because he’s right. Hanging a painting of your own damn house within your house would be funny. “I’ll give you the friends and family rate.”

“I hope that means you charge more. Your skill and time are incredibly valuable, R,” Enjolras tells him, and Grantaire just shakes his head, but he’s smiling.

“Yeah, yeah. C’mon, I want to go look at the statues,” Grantaire says, and he puts his sketchbook back into his bag. 

They head down the stairs to the first floor, and Enjolras takes Grantaire’s hand once again, and Grantaire leads him around.

“Oh, hey, it’s you,” Grantaire says with a smirk, pointing their joined hands at a statue of a bust.

“Huh?” Enjolras tilts his head, and then leans to look at the title of the work.

“Apollo,” Grantaire says, and Enjolras laughs, then turns towards him.

“God of the Sun, right?”

“Among other things. Archery, music, dance, truth, healing,” Grantaire muses, and Enjolras shakes his head and smiles bemusedly.

Enjolras pulls him close and kisses him. “You are absurd,” he says, and Grantaire perks a brow.

“Why?”

“Your comparisons of me- Gods, Kings,” Enjolras explains, waving a hand. “It’s absurd.”

“Eh, agree to disagree,” Grantaire says, and that makes Enjolras laugh.

“Never thought I’d hear you proprose _that_.”

“I’m in a good mood,” Grantaire reasons, and Enjolras leans to kiss him once more. “C’mon, let’s keep going.”

They continue on, and stop at the café on the first floor to get something small to eat before they head out to the meeting at it’s usual location, a community centre named Musain.

They’re still holding hands by the time they walk in, and Grantaire leans over the table beside Enjolras as Enjolras gets out his agenda.

The ABC try to cover a variety of issues, but their main focus tends to be on wage inequality, workers’ rights, and environmental causes. They do their best to take an intersectional lens, acknowledging that there is no issue that isn’t impacted by things like race and gender. 

Enjolras grabs Grantaire for a quick kiss as other people start to filter in, and Grantaire leaves Enjolras’ side to go sit with Eponine.

“How was your not-date?”

“Objectively... kind of date-like,” Grantaire mutters, glancing over at Enjolras, who is now standing with a hand on his hip and talking to Combeferre. “But also not that different than how we interact all the time, so...”

“You’re so fucked,” Eponine mutters, and then Marius sits down next to her.

“Who’s fucked now?” he asks, and Eponine perks her brow.

“R, obviously.”

“I am unfortunately _well_ aware of that,” Marius grimaces.

“Oof, you do live with them, don’t you?” Eponine asks, and Marius blushes just a bit.

“Fuck you,” Grantaire says. “Buy earplugs, asshole.”

“Believe me, I have them,” Marius says, and Eponine cackles.

Cosette sits across from them. “What’s so funny?”

“We’re making fun of Grantaire for being loud in bed, although really, the most unfortunate people in the situation are still the ones who have to listen to him.”

“Hey, not that any of you need to know this," Grantaire argues sharply, "but Enjolras is way louder than I am. For the record.”

“That’s true,” Cosette says, and Marius puts his head down on the table.

“One day, just one day, I would love to get through without talking about your sex life, R.”

“In my defense I would also like if people stop making a complete spectacle of my woes!”

“Oh, you love being the centre of attention,” Eponine says.

“Only Enjolras’,” Cosette says, and Grantaire glares at her. “Am I wrong?”

“No, but fuck you anyway,” Grantaire says. She giggles.

“Don’t swear at my girlfriend,” Marius says, and Eponine scoffs.

“Ah, yes, because she is such a delicate little flower that will just _wilt_ if she hears a naughty word,” Eponine says, and Cosette reaches over to pat Marius on the hand.

“She has a point, Marius, I am not offended by R telling me to fuck off. I will, in fact, tell him to get fucked right back.”

“But he’s already getting fucked, that’s how this whole conversation started,” Marius points out.

“I hate this _fucking_ family,” Grantaire half-shouts. 

They other three laugh with glee.

“Alright, everyone, we’re about ready to start,” Enjolras calls out, voice loud and authoritative.

Most of the chatter quiets down, and he launches into his agenda moments later, explaining upcoming events and collaborations, things that will require numbers of people and financial support from their budget.

When the meeting is adjourned, people start to slowly file out much the way they came in.

“R, do you want a ride to work?” Musichetta asks, and he glances over to Enjolras, chatting with Feuilly.

“Uh, yeah, that would be great. I’m just gonna-”

“Go say goodbye to your boy, I can wait a minute,” Chetta smiles, and Grantaire sighs.

“He’s not my boy, per se, but- yeah,” Grantaire says, and he wanders over to Enjolras and waits a moment for Feuilly to turn around and head towards Bahorel.

“Hey,” Enjolras says.

“I’m heading to work,” Grantaire states, and Enjolras nods.

“Do you want to come over afterwards?” Enjolras asks, lifting a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind Grantaire’s ear.

“Yeah, sure,” Grantaire says, and Enjolras presses a chaste kiss to his lips, then Grantaire bids him goodbye.

Grantaire grabs his bag and follows Musichetta out, but not before glancing back at Enjolras, who is talking with Courfeyrac, but catches his eye and lifts a hand. Grantaire nods.

“You two are awfully cute,” Musichetta observes, her voice playful. Grantaire just rolls his eyes, exaggerated.

“We’re alright. I’m going back to his place again tonight,” Grantaire says nonchalantly, and Chetta laughs.

Grantaire piles into the car along with Joly and Bossuet. Chetta drops her boyfriends off at home, and then drives them to the bar for a somewhat eventful Thursday evening. Lots of college students with no class on Friday and so on.

At the end of the shift, Grantaire takes the bus back to Enjolras’ place and texts him when he’s close. Enjolras greets him, like always, at the door with a kiss.

“Hey,” Enjolras says once again, and he steps back so Grantaire can take off his jacket and boots.

They head on upstairs and, as usual, and tumble into bed together.


	12. Chapter 12

“Grantaire,” Enjolras murmurs, his hands on Grantaire’s neck and shoulder, gazing up at him.

“Enjolras?” Grantaire smirks, drawing out his name, pressing their bodies together and ducking his head to kiss Enjolras on the neck.

“I want you inside me,” Enjolras says, sliding his hand into Grantaire’s hair.

“Mmm, we can make that happen,” Grantaire says, and then he slowly sits up, reaching for the bedside table to grab the condoms and lube.

“Hey,” Enjolras says, “if you want, we can skip the condom. You can cum on my chest.”

“You sure, boo?” Grantaire asks, holding a condom in his palm.

“Yes, if you’re comfortable with it. I haven’t slept with anybody else since we started fucking.”

“Me either,” Grantaire says. Then he nods and drops the condom, but keeps the lube.

They move to take off their clothing, and then settle back into relatively the same position, with Grantaire between Enjolras’ legs, his hand skimming up Enjolras’ inner thigh.

Enjolras places his hands on Grantaire’s shoulders and shuts his eyes as Grantaire works him open with deft fingers, stretching him gently.

“Grantaire,” Enjolras sighs, running his hand through Grantaire’s hair and pulling him down to kiss him.

Grantaire moves carefully and returns the kiss, sliding his tongue along Enjolras’ lower lip before pushing inside and groaning against him.

“C’mon,” Enjolras murmurs, and Grantaire nods.

Silently, Grantaire sits back up and slowly pulls his hand away then picks up the lube to slick his cock, bringing himself closer to Enjolras.

Enjolras reaches for Grantaire as Grantaire rolls his hips forward gently, thrusting in slow at first. “R,” Enjolras whines, and Grantaire bites his lip, slowly adjusting himself so his hands fall on either side of Enjolras’ head, thrusting in a little harder once he has his balance.

Biting his lip, Enjolras slides one hand to Grantaire’s back, and places the other on his neck, bringing him down to press their foreheads together. Grantaire swallows, and Enjolras tilts up to kiss him, once, then lets his eyes fall shut as he keeps Grantaire in place.

Grantaire says nothing, rocking his body forward at a languid pace as Enjolras meets him halfway. He manages to lift back a bit to look at Enjolras, who opens his eyes and gazes up at him, a quiet moan escaping his lips.

It occurs to Grantaire that Enjolras has never been quite this silent during sex. He’s still making some noise, sure- soft, breathy moans, little whines, and quiet gasps. Nothing like his usual shouting, which Grantaire does appreciate, but... this is nice, too. 

Grantaire lowers his head again, their noses touching this time, before their lips, and Enjolras’ palm comes to his cheek as Grantaire moans into his mouth.

Then, they press their foreheads together again as Grantaire thrusts into Enjolras harder, focusing on the heat between them and the shining of Enjolras’ eyes.

“Grantaire,” Enjolras says, his hand tangling in Grantaire’s hair yet again, the other digging into Grantaire’s bicep.

There’s nothing- nothing else in the world but Enjolras’ eyes and his body beneath him. Grantaire kisses him once more, and then slowly moves to sit up. Enjolras makes a noise that get cut off when Grantaire takes his cock in his hand and strokes him, holding Enjolras’ gaze steady.

Enjolras takes Grantaire’s free hand, lacing their fingers, and Enjolras gasps when he cums. Grantaire bites down on his lip and thrusts a few more times before pulling out to take his own cock in his hand and spill himself onto Enjolras, who gives him a coy little smile in return before reaching to pull him forward.

Grantaire settles on Enjolras’ chest, not caring for the mess between them, and kisses Enjolras until they’re both breathless. Enjolras breaks it off with a soft laugh, and Grantaire presses his forehead to Enjolras’ neck as Enjolras runs his hand up his back.

Slowly, they peel apart, and Enjolras moves to grab a handtowel. He takes his abandoned cup of water to wet it and wipe down their chests, which make Grantaire bite his lip and shake his head.

“I should, uh… I should actually go home for once,” Grantaire says slowly, and Enjolras tilts his head. “I’m supposed to meet up with Eponine and Gavroche before 12, so,” Grantaire shrugs.

“Oh,” Enjolras says, and then he nods. “Okay, no worries.”

“And I’ll be _working_ extra late tomorrow night,” Grantaire adds.

“You can still come over afterwards if you want, but, you don’t have to,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire hums.

“We’ll see how tired I am,” Grantaire mumbles, and Enjolras makes a noise in agreement. Grantaire slowly moves to the edge of the bed and grabs a pair of his own pyjama pants that he leaves here, now, and slides them on his legs before he heads out to the bathroom.

Grantaire splashes water on his face, before checking his phone. Technically, he had planned to stay over and just go to Eponine’s straight from Chez Les Amis, but… he doesn’t feel like he can sleep in Enjolras’ arms tonight.

When he started this stupid plot, he thought this was going to be difficult because he’d be kept at an arms’ length by Enjolras, useful for sex and nothing else.

He’s not sure if this is better, or worse, that Enjolras is so clingy. So _intimate_ with him. It’s unexpected, and it’s as painful as it is wonderful.

He loves to bask in Enjolras’ light, but it burns him and leaves him blind when he lingers too long.

Grantaire pulls his hair down at the back of his head and looks at his reflection in the mirror. He sighs, loud, and then slips out of the bathroom to get dressed again in Enjolras’ room.

“Do you want me to bother Marius into driving you home? It’s kind of late,” Enjolras offers, and Grantaire laughs.

“No, it’s fine,” Grantaire promises, and then he leans to kiss Enjolras once more before he heads for the door.

“Kay. Goodnight, R,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire refuses to look back at him.

“Bye,” he calls, and shuts Enjolras’ door behind him, then heads quickly down the stairs.

\-- 

As he said, Grantaire has to work a longer shift the next day. He texts Enjolras halfway through saying he’ll probably stay home tonight because it’s insanely busy and exhausting. Enjolras protests his misuse of the word “insane”, but tells him to sleep well.

Enjolras decides early in the evening to get caught up on some of his schoolwork. His schoolwork hasn’t been _suffering_ , exactly, but he does spend an awful lot of time in bed with Grantaire as of late.

Interestingly, Enjolras isn’t as worried about that as he thought he might be. He’s still doing fine in his studies, and he dedicates just as much time as ever to the ABC.

Enjolras slips into Combeferre’s room uninvited at some point, so they can study together, and Combeferre is happy to let him join in. They hang out on his bed with their books spread out around them. Courfeyrac is hanging out in Marius’ room, so it’s just the two of them.

“Hey, I have a question for you,” Enjolras says eventually, looking up from his textbook in his spot on Combeferre’s bed.

“Shoot,” Combeferre says, placing a highlighter down.

“How did you know your feelings for Courfeyrac were romantic in nature? Was there a specific turning point, when you realized they were no longer exclusively platonic?”

Combeferre hums. “That’s… a bit of a difficult question. It’s sort of one of those innate things, isn’t it? It’s all in the way he makes you feel, and you realize those feelings mean love. But, there were some early indicators, I suppose, before I fully understood what it was I felt. Racing heart, wanting to see him, adoring his smile, craving physical closeness. The lines were always so blurred with him, though,” Combeferre muses.

Enjolras nods once. “I think I’m in love with Grantaire.”

“Oh,” Combeferre says, voice raising an octave. “Well, yeah, that’s- not all that shocking, actually.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Enjolras confesses, altogether shutting his book and straightening his back. “I’ve never felt this way before- I mean, I dated that one guy first year of university, but that was just experimentation, I didn’t feel that strongly. Obviously, I’ve felt very strong physical attraction to many a man, but this is- it’s so different.”

Combeferre breathes in, and looks at Enjolras’ wide and wondering eyes. “Yeah, being in love is intense.”

“I feel a lot of things intensely, which I’m sure you all know very well.”

“We do.”

“But I’ve never- it’s just- I’ve never felt _this_ strongly for a person. Well, not in the romantic sense. Obviously I feel extremely strongly for you and Courfeyrac.”

“I know, Enj.”

“Anyway,” Enjolras says, shaking his head.

“You should probably tell him,” Combeferre suggests gently, and Enjolras grimaces. “What?”

“I do not think that would be wise,” Enjolras says carefully. “Grantaire entered our relationship with the expectation I _wouldn’t_ become romantically attached. Obviously I don’t have control over that, but if I tell him I _do_ have romantic feelings for him, well, I just- I don’t think it would go well.”

“But you don’t know unless you try. Besides, and I don’t mean anything negative by this, but you basically treat him as your boyfriend already. You text him every single day, he practically lives at our house now, and you’ve started asking him out on _dates_.”

Enjolras frowns tightly. “That’s exactly why I _shouldn’t_ rock the boat, Ferre. I am already having my cake and eating it to, so to speak. I can’t risk losing him when everything is so good between us now.”

Combeferre sets his jaw, “I really think you should tell him, Enj. It’s only fair to both of you. But, I can’t make you do anything, either.”

Enjolras heaves a sigh. “I’ll think about it.”

And he does think about it, to his credit. He just decides it’s too risky to chance. Enjolras has never been accused of cowardice before, of course, but in matters of the heart it’s no secret he doesn’t have much experience.

So he resolves to wait and see.

\--

They continue with their usual routine, Grantaire staying over most nights in the coming weeks. He even brings one of his sketchbooks to leave there, so he doesn’t have to entirely neglect his art just for the sake of getting dick.

Furthermore, Marius tricks him into taking his turn for grocery shopping and, when called out by Courfeyrac for doing so, Marius exasperatedly says, “But he’s basically our fifth roommate! He can at least pull half of Enjolras’ weight.”

Grantaire laughs, and insists he doesn’t live there. It’s a bit hard to put his heart in it at this point, but he maintains, “I still pay rent at my other place, I definitely don’t live here.”

“You just said your _other_ place,” Marius throws up his hands.

“You still can’t just make him take your turn shopping. We can write him into the schedule,” Courfeyrac suggests.

“No, how about I just take half Enjolras’ share,” Grantaire suggests. “Or Marius’, I’m not picky. I don’t even have my own room, so I certainly shouldn’t be given a full task list.”

“If we went by that logic, Ferre and I should be splitting our workload, and we aren’t.”

“No, no, I’m cool with him taking half my chores,” Marius says, and Courfeyrac scowls at him.

“Perfect! We’re all in agreement,” Grantaire announces with a clap of his hands.

“I did not agree, and neither did Enj or Ferre, so the majority has not spoken,” Courfeyrac says.

“Enjolras will agree with me,” Grantaire waves him off, smirking.

“At this point you’re probably right, which is actually sort of scary… do we really think R should have that much power?” Marius asks, thoughtful expression on his face. Courfeyrac also gives a thoughtful look.

“No, he definitely should not have that much power.”

“Try and stop me, bitches,” Grantaire opens his arms, and they chuckle together. 

“I have to go study,” Courfeyrac sighs, “I’ll put a roommate meeting in the family calendar to settle this once and for all sometime later today.”

“I can’t tell if he’s joking or not,” Grantaire observes.

“Me either,” Marius says, and Courfeyrac just smiles and starts towards the stairs.

Grantaire settles on the couch with his sketchbook until Enjolras comes up from Combeferre’s room and sits with him, reading over an article on his laptop. Grantaire immediately abandons the sketch he was doing to capture Enjolras sitting across from him, elbow on the back of the couch and hand on his head.

It’s Tuesday, so Grantaire follows Enjolras to his meeting, and returns to Chez Les Amis even while Enjolras goes off to class. He cooks with Courfeyrac, his own suggestion on the meal plan, and they eat together while saving the rest for the other three.

Grantaire eventually puts his sketchbook over on the bookshelf in the living room and hangs out in Enjolras’ room on his phone until Enjolras comes home and flops on the bed beside him.

“Hey,” Grantaire says, dropping his phone. Enjolras places a hand on his leg, stroking with his thumb.

“Hi,” Enjolras says, then he shifts to sit on his knees and takes Grantaire’s face in both his hands, kissing him deeply.

Grantaire twists his fingers in Enjolras’ hair, and Enjolras pulls back to climb into his lap before resuming kissing him.

Wordlessly, they start to pull pieces of clothing off one another, Enjolras getting up again to take his bright red jeans off. Grantaire moves to the edge of the bed to take his pants off, too, and then Enjolras rejoins him in the bed and they lie down with their legs slotted together.

Grantaire rolls onto his back and then pulls Enjolras on top of him.

“Enj,” he breathes, looking him up and down.

“Hm?” Enjolras asks, kissing down his jaw, then looking into his eyes.

“I- I want you to fuck me, on my back,” Grantaire says. Nine times out of ten, Grantaire is the one on top, and the few times Enjolras has assumed that role, Grantaire asks to be taken from behind.

“Okay,” Enjolras nods, and kisses him, slow and intense. Grantaire kisses him back, and then bites his lip as Enjolras reaches to grab the lube.

However, as soon as his hand skims up Grantaire’s thigh, Grantaire feels his heart squeeze, with Enjolras’ heated gaze on him. He frowns, slightly, and says, “Wait.”

Enjolras stops, and tilts his head. “You okay?”

Grantaire thinks, for a moment, and takes a deep breath. He wants to do this, but he knows it’s going to wreck him to have Enjolras staring at him like that- it’s just so _vulnerable,_ and Grantaire should be shying away from vulnerability, not encouraging it.

Still, Grantaire presses his lips together and nods. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just keep going.”

Enjolras furrows his brows, though, “I… I’m not certain you are, Grantaire.” Grantaire shuts his eyes and makes a little noise of annoyance.

“I said I’m fine,” Grantaire insists, a little forceful as he snaps his eyes open again.

Enjolras purses his lips, hand still stalled on Grantaire’s inner thigh.

“Come on, Enjolras,” Grantaire says, demanding.

“Just because you don’t feel like enforcing a boundary doesn’t mean I’m about to cross it, Grantaire. Besides, now I’m feeling a little uncomfortable- I don’t want to be worrying that you might be doing something you don’t actually want to do while we’re having sex. It isn’t fair to either of us, at that point.”

Grantaire shuts his eyes and breathes in, shaky. All of a sudden, with just those words alone, he realizes what he has to do.

He fucked this up so _badly_.

“C’mon,” Enjolras says, moving to sit and reaching for Grantaire, “come snuggle with me. We don’t have to fuck every single time you come over.”

“I can’t do this anymore,” Grantaire blurts out.

“Come again?”

“I can’t- I can’t do this,” Grantaire breathes in, moving towards the edge of the bed. Enjolras watches him, his hands still out towards Grantaire.

“I.. I take it you don’t mean snuggling?” Enjolras says slowly, worry coming over his expression. Grantaire sets his jaw as he grabs his pants, and pulls them onto his legs.

“The sex. Our whole thing. I can’t keep sleeping with you,” Grantaire confirms, and Enjolras blinks. His expression is confused and mildly hurt when Grantaire looks his way.

“Wh-what? I mean, obviously you can revoke consent whenever you want but- Grantaire, where is this coming from.. did I do something? Say something?”

Grantaire just shakes his head, “I need to go. I just- I can’t to do this anymore. It’s over.” He gets up, and pulls on his shirt hastily.

“O…kay,” Enjolras says slowly, eyebrows furrowed and staring at him blankly. “I…”

“See you around,” Grantaire says with finality, reaching for the doorknob.

“Bye…?” Enjolras looks, and sounds, completely bewildered.

And then, Grantaire is gone.

He encounters Courfeyrac in the living room, who says, “Hey, R!” in a cheerful voice from his spot on the couch.

Grantaire doesn’t look his way. He just states, “I’m headed out,” and disappears down the stairs.

Courfeyrac pulls a face in mild confusion, but glances back down his novel a moment later. Grantaire isn’t usually so curt with _him_ necessarily, but he does have his moods. Maybe he and Enjolras are fighting? It’s not unthinkable, although they’ve been doing surprisingly well given their respective personalities.

Still, Courfeyrac resumes reading. He begins to realize something is really wrong only when Enjolras trails out of his room about a minute or two later, looking pale and shellshocked.

“Hey boo. What’s going on?” Courfeyrac asks slowly, placing his book down. “Grantaire just ran out of here like a bat out of hell…”

“He- um. He broke up with me? Or, not broke _up_ , we weren’t dating, but he-he, uh, he broke things off. He told me he didn’t want to do this anymore.”

“Shit, really?” Courfeyrac stands up, moving to place his hands on Enjolras arms, “oh honey.”

Combeferre comes up the stairs, and Courfeyrac wordlessly motions him over. He places his hand on Enjolras’ shoulder, sensing something is amiss.

“I.. I don’t know what I did?” Enjolras says, glancing out the front window in their living room. “Did I say something? What.. what would make him just end things, _out of nowhere_?”

“Was it really that final?” Courfeyrac asks, “What did R say? What was happening, what was the lead up?

Enjolras shakes his head, “He said.. he said it was over, Courfeyrac. We were just- he wanted to try something, then he was hesitating, so I told him we didn’t have to, then he insisted he wanted to, and I said ‘well _I’m_ not comfortable doing something if I’m not sure you actually want it’, and then he just said that he couldn’t do this anymore. Any of it. Then he took off.”

As Enjolras is recounting the situation, silent tears start falling down his cheeks, and he sniffs and moves to wipe them when he’s done.

“I don’t know what I did,” he gasps, and Courfeyac pulls him into his arms as Combeferre rubs his back.

“It sounds like you didn’t do anything, Enj,” Courfeyrac assures him, “who knows what Grantaire is thinking?”

Enjolras continues to wipe furiously at his tears. “I’ve never felt so strongly for someone before- at least, not in a romantic sense. I don’t- I don’t know what to do.”

“I’ll get you a glass of water, Enj, you just sit with Courf, okay?” Combeferre says, and Enjolras nods numbly, then sniffs again.

Enjolras places a hand on his chest, feeling a physical aching in the middle of his sternum, and continues to quietly cry. Courfeyrac and Combeferre share a look when Combeferre returns with the water.

They have no idea what’s going on with Grantaire, or why he so suddenly decided to break their best friend’s heart.

They don’t know where to begin to fix it, but to just help Enjolras pick up the pieces.

And it turns out, Enjolras’ heart is quite thoroughly broken, at that. Courfeyrac has never seen him so despondent in the hours after Grantaire leaves. 

It's a Sunday, so he has no engagements that very day, but for the first time since starting law school, Enjolras misses the next two days of class.

Instead of going to school, he moves between his bed and the couch, dressed in sweats and crying into vegan ice cream.

He had assumed American TV shows exaggerated what a breakup was like, but, certainly, it feels like part of him is missing- like Grantaire had nestled into his life with barbs around him, and tore a chunk of Enjolras out when he abruptly left.

Combeferre tells him that a break-up is like processing a loss, psychologically speaking. Enjolras believes him.

On Tuesday, he doesn’t even show up at the meeting of the ABC, which is a shock to everyone.

Grantaire included. Because he, conversely, is there.

“Enjolras has come down with a cold, so I will be leading the meeting today,” Combeferre says, no further explanation. 

Without Enjolras’ energy, it feels like someone might as well have died. There’s a tension, and a confusion, and really, a concern. Enjolras wouldn’t usually miss a meeting for the world. 

Or maybe that’s Grantaire just projecting, and mourning for what he fucked up so badly. He doesn’t pay an iota of attention while Combeferre goes through the agenda. His mind is swirling. Or maybe it’s numb, he can’t tell.

“Is Enjolras, like, seriously okay?” Jehan asks near the end of the meeting, and glances at Grantaire, who avoids their gaze. “Like… normally he’d sooner infect us all with the plague than miss a meeting.”

“Enjolras will be just fine,” Courfeyrac says, also shooting a tiny look at Grantaire. “He’s just under the weather.”

And on Thursday, Enjolras is back at the meeting. He _looks_ like he might have been actually sick, with deep bags under his eyes and a pale face. 

“Hey,” Jehan greets him with smile, “hope you’re feeling better.”

“I’m… on the mend,” Enjolras says. As soon as they’re ready to start, he launches into his discussion with utmost fervor, as if he doesn’t look or feel like shit.

Grantaire doesn’t say a word the whole meeting, eyes flicking from Enjolras to literally anywhere else. Enjolras doesn’t look his way once, that he can see.

“R,” Enjolras calls, at the end of the meeting as Grantaire attempts to bolt from the room. He hesitates just too long, and glances over his shoulder.

Enjolras comes up to him, places a hand on his elbow.

“Can we… talk?” he asks, voice soft. “I-I just. I wanna know if it’s something I did?” he pleads, quiet. Others have started shuffling past the two of them, chattering amongst themselves.

Grantaire shakes his head, “It’s nothing, Enjolras. I’m just- done.”

“Grantaire,” Enjolras scoffs, and Grantaire wrenches his arm back from him.

“I gotta go, I have a shift to get to.”

“R,” Enjolras says again, but Grantaire is taking off. He doesn’t look back to see Enjolras run his fists through his hair and try to steady his breathing.

Separated by the door, and a good few feet on either side, they each mutter to themselves,

“Fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd say i'm sorry but :>   
> also i think i've mentioned this is a corona-less universe so i'm a lil sorry for the plague joke but also not really lol. please also know I believe Enj WOULD take a real life plague seriously if this were a coronaverse


	13. Chapter 13

After Grantaire did the deed, he went home, opened a bottle of whiskey, and called Musichetta.

When he didn’t get through to her, he tried Bossuet, who picked up right away and very quickly noticed, well, something was up. Chetta and Joly were just down the hall, so once they’d gathered in front of the phone, Grantaire spilled his guts.

Grantaire explained from the start, what he’d been doing, how he’d had feelings all along and let them fester and then started fucking Enjolras even though he _knew_ Enjolras would never feel the same. He explained that he, all of a sudden, couldn’t stand it anymore.

He explained to his friends what Enjolras had said, how he was basically fucking Enjolras’ under false pretenses because he never told him about his feelings, and how he was a horrible, horrible human being.

“Hey, hey. Obviously, we think open communication is great, and it’s key to healthy relationships- but you aren’t a horrible person for not telling Enjolras about your feelings,” Joly assured him.

Grantaire didn’t quite believe it then.

And he still doesn’t, after running from Enjolras at the meeting.

The next few weeks pass by in a haze, at least for Grantaire. He’s sleeping more, drinking more, letting calls go unanswered. He _does_ check in with Joly, Bossuet, Musichetta, and Eponine. It’s nice, having them on his side, but there’s really only so much that can be done for him at this stage.

He fucked up.

He always knew he was fucking up. It blew up in his face, and he was the one that was holding the match. He was the one that poured the damn gasoline. 

Grantaire avoids Enjolras as much as he can without actually disengaging with the group. After a couple attempts to talk, and some ignored text messages, Enjolras seemingly gives up.

Grantaire is relieved, for just a second, before the bitterness sets in.

That’s his own fault, too, he knows. Of course Enjolras won’t chase him forever. Even if they had become fairly decent friends in addition to their fuck buddy relationship. Part of Grantaire does want the friendship back, but he knows it won’t be healthy for him, so for once in his life he does one single thing in his best interest, and stays away.

Or, at least, Grantaire had thought Enjolras had given up. 

It’s very early Spring, and there’s a Climate Action Friday protest happening in the afternoon. Although there’s dirty snow on the ground, it’s been raining most of the day. A lot of people dip.

Not Enjolras, of course. Grantaire shows up, along with a few more people. But 20 minutes in when thunder sounds in the distance, Enjolras begrudgingly tells everyone they should head home, lest they get struck by lightening, although the rain is just a sprinkle where they’re standing. For now.

So, Grantaire turns to leave, but he doesn’t get too far.

“Grantaire,” Enjolras call, passing off a milk crate of soaking wet signage to Combeferre so he can take it to a car, and then jogging to catch up with R. “Do you have a second?”

“To talk about our Lord and Savior, Socialism?” Grantaire quips, and Enjolras pushes his damp hair back from his forehead. The rain is starting to pick up.

“No, to talk about what happened with us,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire bristles. “It’s been, well, a few weeks. If-if you’re not ready, that’s okay, and if you tell me no I can leave you alone, or wait until you’re ready to approach me, but-” Enjolras sighs, hard. “I just want to know if I did something wrong.”

“No,” Grantaire says, looking at Enjolras’ sad, sad eyes. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Enj.”

“Then what _happened_? We were doing great, I thought. Why did you just break up- or, break things off, out of _nowhere_? Where did we go wrong, then?” Enjolras pauses just a moment, “Please, just tell me.”

Grantaire takes in a deep breath, pushing his own damp hair from his face. “You didn’t fuck up, Enjolras, _I_ did.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“For fuck’s sake,” Grantaire breathes, and then he makes yet another stupid decision, “I’m in love with you, okay? I’ve been in love with you this whole goddamn time, and I started fucking you _knowing_ I loved you, and that you weren’t looking for anything serious. I fucked up, I shouldn’t have done that, it was a horrible thing to do to both myself and to you, so if you can just let me exit your fucking life now, that would be fantastic.”

“You wh-” Enjolras blinks, then opens and shuts his mouth. He's silent for a beat as water runs down his shoulders. “Grantaire, can I kiss you?”

“ _What?”_

“I feel the same,” Enjolras takes Grantaire’s hand and Grantaire is too stunned to stop him. The rain is starting to pour around them like something out of a romcom. “I love you, too, I just- I didn’t think you’d return my feelings.”

“What?” Grantaire repeats, breathing out. His eyes flick from Enjolras’, open and earnest, and then down to his lips.

Then, Grantaire lifts his free hand to Enjolras’ cheek and kisses him.

Enjolras places his hand on Grantaire’s waist, bunching the fabric of the loose forest green jacket that is soaking through and starting to cling to his body.

“What the fuck,” Grantaire says when they part, and Enjolras presses his nose to Grantaire’s cheek.

“I can’t believe I was so afraid,” Enjolras murmurs, and Grantaire shakes his head. He is, frankly, shocked.

“Hey! Sorry to interrupt, but do you two want a ride? We’re just about packed up,” Marius yells from a few feet away.

“Come back to my place?” Enjolras asks, and Grantaire nods and kisses him one more time. “Be right there!” Enjolras yells to Marius.

Then, Enjolras squeezes Grantaire’s hand, and they follow Marius to his car.

“Combeferre is driving some other people home with carshare, because of the storm,” Marius explains. Cosette is in the front seat and she tilts her head, smiling.

“Hi R,” she says, as the two of them climb into the backseat.

“Hey,” Grantaire replies, and he’s almost regretting agreeing to drive home with Marius, given the coy little smirk she has on her face.

But Cosette just starts talking about something someone mentioned to her earlier, liking the way Enjolras’ phrased something about climate action and wealth inequality, which spurs Enjolras to talk about it with her the whole way home.

“Thanks, Marius,” Enjolras says when they step back out into the rain.

“No problem. We’ll be right back once we go pick up Courferre from the carshare drop off.”

“See you later,” Cosette chimes in, and Enjolras shuts the car door, and he and Grantaire head inside.

They pause near the door way to kiss, then take off their shoes, and jackets. Enjolras suggests they toss their wet jeans directly in the wash because nobody else is home anyway, so they do, and then they make their way up the stairs.

Enjolras grabs towels for their hair and offers Grantaire a pair of sweatpants to put on. Then, he gets dressed himself.

Enjolras takes a seat on his bed and tosses his towel towards the little laundry bin he has, and reaches for Grantaire.

The incredibly melodramatic moment has passed, and now they’re left with just each other, in Enjolras’ room, with the rain panging against the window.

Grantaire takes Enjolras’ hand and Enjolras pulls him close, so Grantaire replaces his hand on Enjolras’ shoulder and climbs into his lap on the bed. Enjolras slides his arms to R’s back, and leans up to kiss him, slow and sweet.

“Aren’t you mad at me?” Grantaire murmurs against his lips, and Enjolras looks up at him.

“Why would I be mad at you?” he asks.

Grantaire swallows, looking Enjolras up and down. “I, essentially, lied to you. I started our relationship knowing I had feelings for you, and I never told you,” he admits, heart beating hard in his chest. “And then I left you over it.”

“But I did the exact same thing… I assumed you wouldn’t feel the same, so I didn’t tell you how I felt.”

“But you didn’t have feelings for me _before_ we started fucking, did you?” Grantaire insists.

“Well… no,” Enjolras admits. “When we started sleeping together, we started spending time together, and my feelings for you developed over that time. I still hid them from you, knowingly. So how could I be angry at you for doing the same thing?”

Grantaire shakes his head, “I guess. I, on the other hand, am angry at both of us.”

Enjolras laughs, “Then you have enough anger for the two of us, and I have enough forgiveness.”

Grantaire breathes in a laugh, and then leans forward to kiss Enjolras again, his hand coming to play with the still-slightly-damp hair at the back of Enjolras’ neck.

Slowly, Enjolras lies down and brings Grantaire with him, and, after a bit of shuffling, Grantaire ends up the one on his back with Enjolras leaning over him and pressing searing, sweet kisses against his lips and cheeks.

“Wait,” Enjolras murmurs, although Grantaire isn’t really doing much of anything. Still, Grantaire stops his hand on Enjolras’ back where he was running it up and down.

“What?”

“Where does this leave us, Grantaire?” Enjolras asks, “will you be my boyfriend?”

Grantaire fights a smile. “Oh, Mr. Law Student has time for a boyfriend _now_ huh?”

Enjolras scoffs at him, “R.”

Grantaire giggles, and Enjolras goes on.

“Perhaps Mr. Law Student has discovered that having someone around all the time and becoming invested in him emotionally isn’t _as much_ of a distraction to his studies as he thought it might be,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire kisses him.

“Oh, I don’t distract you? I’m not on your mind every waking second? Guess I’ll need to try harder,” Grantaire laughs, and Enjolras kisses him again, laughing along with him.

“Mh. Maybe you do distract me a little,” Enjolras admits, “but it’s worth it.”

Grantaire breathes in slowly, his heart feeling like it might jump from his chest. “What was the question again?”

Enjolras chuckles, “Will you be my boyfriend, R?”

“Yes,” Grantaire answers, and their lips meet again once more.

“Excellent,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire laughs.

“Baby,” Grantaire lifts his hand to place it on Enjolras’ collar. “I want you to fuck me. Face to face.”

“I would love nothing more,” Enjolras tells him, entirely sincere.

They take it slow, pulling off each other’s clothes until all their garments are in a pile on the floor, and Enjolras leans over to grabs the lube from the bedside drawer.

“Have you been with anyone else since we… broke up?” Enjolras asks, “just for, y’know, safe sex purposes.”

“No, Enj,” Grantaire says with a shake of his head.

“I wouldn’t be mad.”

“Did _you?_ I will be mad,” Grantaire promises.

“Hey, you left _me_. But no, I’ve been far too sad,” Enjolras confesses, and Grantaire coos and laughs.

“I am sorry,” Grantaire tells him, a bit more serious, and Enjolras nods.

“It’s okay,” Enjolras tells him, and then holds Grantaire’s neck to kiss him again.

Grantaire lies back and Enjolras gets between his knees, kissing down his chest and caressing his thighs before slowly starting to work Grantaire open with a finger, and then two. Grantaire moans, softly, and resists the urge to shut his eyes so he can see Enjolras’ face, that intense gaze fixated on him and only him.

It takes his breath away, and combined with the sensation of Enjolras’ hands on his body, Grantaire doesn’t take long to melt into the bed.

“Enj, please,” he groans.

“Please what? You want me to make love to you now?” Enjolras asks, and Grantaire laughs a little abruptly.

“ _Fuck_ me, you absolute fool,” Grantaire says.

“But I love you, ergo, it’s called making love now.”

“I will never call it that. Just fuck me, slut,” Grantaire insists, and Enjolras laughs this time.

Finally, Enjolras reaches for the condom and rolls it on, then adds more lube before bringing himself closer to Grantaire.

Grantaire slides his hands up Enjolras’ chest and onto his shoulders just before Enjolras thrusts into him slowly, gently, and presses their foreheads together.

“Enjolras,” Grantaire gasps, and Enjolras kisses him, swallowing the next few gasps on his lips as Enjolras rolls his hips forward.

Enjolras fucks him with force, but he keeps the slow pace, pulling back just enough to see Grantaire clearly. Grantaire holds his gaze, fingernails digging into Enjolras’ back.

“God, Grantaire,” Enjolras groans, and Grantaire pushes his body against Enjolras’, eye fluttering shut for just a moment before he reconnects their gaze.

Enjolras leans forward and kisses Grantaire, hot, open-mouthed, and continues to fuck him into the mattress, slow and grueling. Grantaire whines in the back of his throat, feeling his core tightening.

Their bodies continue to move in a slow tandem until Enjolras leans back just enough to take Grantaire’s cock and strokes him in time with his thrusts, until Grantaire cries out with Enjolras’ name on his lip and cums, white-hot.

“Keep going,” Grantaire gasps, and Enjolras bites down on his lip and thrusts just a few more times before he comes, too, calling out Grantaire’s name in turn.

They collapse together in a little pile and Enjolras kisses Grantaire until they’re both breathless and panting for air.

“I love you,” Enjolras says.

“I love you, too,” Grantaire murmurs back, and they continue to kiss one another until one of them finally decides they need to move.

Enjolras gets them cleaned up with one of the towels they brought in earlier, and they take turns in the bathroom before getting back into sweatpants and t-shirts and snuggle on the bed, talking about anything and nothing for hours.

It has to be around 8pm by the time they emerge from Enjolras’ bedroom, starving, because they fucked and talked through supper. Enjolras offers to order them food, so he opens his laptop to find something that suits their tastes.

Grantaire has a missed call from Joly, and a few texts from others. He bites his lip, and wonders whether he should have this conversation over text or not. He decides to be a little vague, telling them,

> **there’s been an update to my relationship status…… a positive one so dont worry.  
** > **more on that later**

Then he just puts his phone on the coffee table, and take Enjolras’ laptop to put his order in. Enjolras slings his arm around his shoulders.

Grantaire cannot believe that, in the end, it was all this simple. He told Enjolras about his feelings, and… Enjolras said he returned them and asked to kiss him on the spot. Then, before the next hour was up, Enjolras was asking to be his boyfriend, and then they were fucking and just-

All of that heartache, for nothing.

“What’s on your mind, love?” Enjolras asks, pressing his nose to the side of Grantaire’s head.

“There’s no way this is reality,” Grantaire says. “That you, so beautiful, and enchanting, in all your fire and ice are in love with _me_ \- and after everything I put you through.”

“In the grand scheme of things, we were hardly apart for a month. It was a misunderstanding, Grantaire,” Enjolras shrugs, and Grantaire just shakes his head. Enjolras leans forward, and kisses him.

When they part ways, they notice a couple pairs of eyes on them. Courfeyrac is tilting his head, and Combeferre looks mildly puzzled.

“Um. Hey, R,” Courfeyrac says, and then points between the two of them. “Um. Forgive me but. What?”

“Oh, uh, we made up,” Enjolras says, and Combeferre nods slowly.

“Right,” Combeferre says.

“Okay, yeah. That makes so much sense,” Courfeyrac says, “not! Just, like. Obviously I’m happy for you, but. First of all, what? Second, when, and third, _how_?”

Grantaire looks over at Enjolras shrugs. “I told him I was in love with him the whole time we were fucking, and he said he loved me, too, and asked me to be his boyfriend.”

“It’s been, ah-” Enjolras holds up his wrist to check the time, “5 hours? Give or take? Since right after the protest.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Courfeyrac asks, blinking.

Enjolras regards him carefully, “This would be a pretty wild prank to play, Courf. Hahah, yeah, I just roped Grantaire into pretending to get back together with me to freak out my two best friends. Hilarious.”

Courfeyrac just shakes his head. “Like I said, I am _very_ happy for you two. Also, I need a drink.”

Combeferre follows him into the kitchen wordlessly, and the two of them do make drinks, then come in to sit on the loveseat as Enjolras and Grantaire snuggle.

Enjolras gets up to get the food, and Grantaire is left alone with Courf and Ferre for just a few minutes. Courfeyrac is regarding him carefully, and so is Combeferre.

“What is it?” Grantaire asks, and Courfeyrac just shakes his head.

“Objectively speaking, what I’m about to say is very hypocritical of me but- please remember to communicate with him,” Courfeyrac says.

“We’ll remind him to communicate with you next time, too,” Combeferre adds, firm. “You both deserve that much.”

“Yeah, I mean- we’ll try,” Grantaire shifts.

It’s a weird and lowkey shovel talk, but Grantaire hears the message loud and clear.

“That’s all you can do,” Courfeyrac says, and then Enjolras is coming up the stairs with the food they ordered.

Courfeyrac and Combeferre hang out for a little while longer while Enjolras and Grantaire eat their food, some Netflix documentary about social media on in the background. They escape before Enjolras starts sharing his Opinions on the documentary, and Grantaire snuggles up in his arm and argues against whatever Enjolras is saying just to get a rise, and then kisses him.

“Do you wanna stay the night?” Enjolras asks, his lips on Grantaire’s hair. 

“If you want me to.”

“Of course,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire smiles, just a little quirk of his lips.

“Okay. I’ll stay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHH so this was lowkey where it was going to end in my original original plan, but then I wrote so much CCR subtext into the first couple chapters i started wanting to have them end up a polycule so stay tuned if that's your jam~


	14. Chapter 14

It’s been a couple of months since Grantaire and Enjolras started dating, officially.

Some of their friends secretly wondered if they would crash and burn a second time- not wishing for it, but fearing it might happen nonetheless. Nothing of the sort has happened. Yeah, they have their issues, but they’re both working on their communication, slowly but surely.

Summer has just started, so things are a little bit less busy for Enjolras, which certainly helps. Grantaire hasn’t moved in on paper or anything, but he’s returned to spending most of his time at Chez Les Amis anyway.

He and Enjolras hang out with Courfeyrac and Combeferre a lot of the time, when they’re not hanging out with their wider friend group, and Grantaire has grown even closer with the two of them. He sort of drifted from them, when he started screwing around with Enjolras, despite the fact he was friends with them first. He’s glad they’re back to being close.

One summer evening finds them on the beach, Jehan talking to Grantaire about the constellations they should be able to see later as a fire blazes in front of them. Courfeyrac and Combeferre are walking along the water, hand in hand, and Enjolras is talking to Cosette about their experiences buying from slow fashion brands online and switching to garments made primarily from natural fibres.

Eponine has the guitar and Marius is singing along to what she’s playing, and Bahorel and Feuilly are tossing a ball back and forth a short distance from the fire. Regrettably, Musichetta couldn’t make it because one of her staff called in sick and Joly and Bossuet didn’t want to leave her behind by herself.

As the sun starts to set, Bahorel and Feuilly return, and then Courfeyrac and Combeferre do as well, and a few of them roast vegan marshmallows. Most of them crack open drinks, save for Marius, who will be driving later.

Cosette and Enjolras duet to something Eponine plays, some indie song, before Eponine passes the guitar over to Grantaire and he sings a sappy love song and avoids looking at his boyfriend.

At that point, Enjolras badgers Grantaire to lead them in one of his favourite sea shanties, and then cajoles everyone to join in with him. Feuilly is right there with him, in fairness.

When Grantaire puts the guitar down, Courfeyrac hooks his phone up to a Bluetooth speaker instead, and pulls Grantaire to dance with him. Grantaire singles out Jehan to join him, and then Cosette gets up, and Marius follows suit.

The rest of them sit around the fire and continue to chat as it gets darker and darker still.

Bahorel, Feuilly, and Jehan are actually camping out at the beach. Their tent was pitched before it got dark, and the three of them end up excusing themselves for a bit to go get sweaters and fresh water and the like.

Cosette grabs Eponine’s hand, saying she wants to walk along the water in the moonlight, and then hooks her other elbow in Marius’. Eponine sighs, but squeezes her hand and walks with her, shooting a glance towards Grantaire. He lifts his hand travel mug to her, and then goes to sit next to his boyfriend, who wraps his arm around Grantaire's shoulder as soon as his ass hits the log in front of the fire.

Courfeyrac sits next to Combeferre and giggles, taking a long drink from his travel mug filled with alcohol. Grantaire finishes his cup, and frowns slightly when he shakes it. Enjolras takes it from him, wordlessly and goes to their cooler to fills up his own mug, then Grantaire’s, then Combeferre’s, and sits back down.

“Having fun, Courf?” Enjolras asks as Courfeyrac sways to the music that is still playing.

“Yes! Very much so,” Courfeyrac affirms. He is kind of wasted.

“You’re so cute,” Combeferre remarks, and Courfeyrac sticks his tongue out. Enjolras wraps his arm around Grantaire and smiles at his friends, then his boyfriend.

“ _They’re_ so cute, wouldn’t you say?” Courfeyrac smiles, coquettish, looking over at Enjolras, and Grantaire. “Our little maneater, in love at last.”

Combeferre snickers into his wrist, “Courfeyrac.”

Enjolras rolls his eyes, but he knows it’s good-natured ribbing.

“A maneater. And a man stealer,” Courfeyrac announces.

“ _Courf_ ,” Combeferre says, and Courfeyrac winks at his boyfriend.

“What?” he sings.

“What?” Enjolras repeats, and Grantaire also tilts his head. 

“Man stealer? Whose man did he steal?” Grantaire asks, quirking his brow.

“Mine, silly,” Courfeyrac waves his hand. Grantaire still looks incredibly skeptical. “Oh, don’t play coy.”

“Courfeyrac,” Combeferre shakes his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Whaaat?” Courfeyrac repeats, and then he takes another long drink from his cup.

“When exactly did I steal your man, Courfeyrac? I don’t remember sleeping with Combeferre.”

“Not Ferre,” Courfeyrac says, then he lifts his cup, gesturing towards the man in question, “Grantaire.”

“Come again?” Grantaire balks. “ _Me_?”

“Courfeyrac,” Combeferre sighs, and Courfeyrac just pouts at him.

“What?” he says, once more. “I’m just teasing them! There’s no hard feelings.”

“Wait, hold up- when was I your man?” Grantaire asks. It’s not angry, or accusing, just confused.

“You seriously don’t remember, like, all of last fall?” Courfeyrac asks.

“We both had a huge crush on you,” Combeferre puts them all out of their misery, because it seems like Courfeyrac is hellbent on being drunkenly obtuse, which was sort of what lead them to this point, if he thinks on it. “We were totally trying to get you into bed with us for weeks.”

Grantaire blinks, and glances at his boyfriend, then back at their best friends. “You’re not serious?” he says.

“I don’t think this would be a very funny joke,” Courfeyrac shrugs. “And, like, c’mon. We made out with you at a club.”

“Wait, really?” Enjolras’ eyes widen, and Grantaire blushes, but it’s a bit dark out to notice.

“It was before we got together! And I assumed it was platonic. I’ve made out with Jehan platonically _tons_ of times.”

“You have?” Enjolras asks, and Grantaire waves him off. Enjolras raises his brows, but he accepts it at that.

“ _And_ I literally got you to sing a song about a fucking threesome in public, Grantaire! Sweet baby Jesus in the garden,” Courfeyrac sighs, loud and dramatic.

“That is true, I was there for that,” Enjolras says, matter-of-fact, and looks at his boyfriend as if to agree he should have noticed the two men pursuing him.

“Uh, whose side are you on here?” Grantaire asks, and Enjolras just shrugs.

“I’m not on a side.”

“We also explicitly asked you to sleep in our bed the night after karaoke and you _still_ went upstairs to listen to Enjolras get fucked by someone. At some point, we had to assume you really weren’t interested,” Combeferre explains.

“I had no idea!” Grantaire insists, throwing up his hands, and Enjolras snorts. “You have no room to laugh at me, Enj, you didn’t know _I_ was in love with you, and I practically lived in your bed.”

“That’s true,” Enjolras admits.

“It’s _fine_ ,” Courfeyrac says. “We got over it! Now it’s just funny and, well- I’m drunk, so I’ll probably regret it in the morning, but it was lowkey nice to get it off my chest.”

“You are definitely going to regret it,” Combeferre confirms. “But, well, it’s probably for the best we told you _eventually_. Obviously our friendship has managed just fine, but…”

Enjolras nods his head, and Grantaire is shaking his again.

“This is madness,” Grantaire says. “I am utterly shocked.”

“Why? You’re very likable,” Enjolras tells him.

“Baby we both know that isn’t true,” Grantaire looks at him, and Enjolras just fights a smile.

“You’re very fuckable,” Enjolras tries, and Grantaire pushes him with his shoulder. Enjolras laughs.

“We liked you a lot- I mean, we still _like_ you, clearly,” Courfeyrac says. “But we think you’re both likable and fuckable.”

Grantaire shakes his head, “Okay- I still find it hard to believe my boyfriend wants to fuck me, and two of my friends say they wanted to fuck me? It just- it’s sounds very fake.”

Enjolras presses a kiss to Grantaire’s hair. “You’re absurd.”

“No, the three of _you_ are absurd,” Grantaire insists.

At that point, though, their conversation is cut off. Cosette, Marius, and Eponine arrive at the fire once again.

“What’s up?” Cosette asks, plopping down on one of the free logs.

“The stars,” Courfeyrac cries dramatically, and reaches a hand towards the sky.

“He’s wasted,” Combeferre says.

“I’ll drink to that,” Eponine says, moving to refill the travel mug she’d drained on their walk.

A few minutes later, Bahorel, Jehan, and Feuilly finally return.

“You three were gone a while,” Cosette comments.

“We had a weed disaster,” Jehan says gravely.

“Oh no. What’s that mean?”

“We could not _find_ the weed and had to tear apart every bag we brought,” Feuilly explains with an exasperated little noise.

“But we did find it in the end,” Jehan says, triumphantly holding up a couple of joints.

“Gimme that,” Eponine says, and Jehan holds up a lighter and one of the joints to pass to her.

She passes it around, and everyone except Marius smokes some, because he is, as always, the designated driver.

After another hour or two of hanging out on the beach and a few more songs from Eponine and Grantaire, Marius announces they have to start to get rolling, because they rented a van from carshare in order to fit their larger group and their time will be up soon. Bahorel, Jehan, and Feuilly brought their own car for their overnight stay.

They douse the fire and give out hugs before heading over to the van, and everyone takes turns chatting with Marius on the drive home until they arrive at Chez Les Amis.

Marius, Cosette, and Eponine disappear into Marius’ room, and Enjolras makes sure to hug Combeferre and Courfeyrac. Grantaire hugs them as well, and then he heads on upstairs with Enjolras.

“Okay, but- do you think Courfeyrac was serious?” Grantaire asks, pulling his shirt off. It smells strongly of smoke from the fire, and he shoves it into the basket in Enjolras’ room.

“He wouldn’t joke about something like that,” Enjolras insists, unbuckling his belt and stepping out of his jeans.

“But, like,” Grantaire pulls a face, “there’s no way he and his boyfriend actually wanted to fuck me.”

“I didn’t notice you pining over me, you didn’t notice them pining over you,” Enjolras shrugs.

“However you, my love, are entirely blind,” Grantaire says, “and maybe I was just really good at hiding it.”

“Didn’t you say literally everyone in the ABC knew for months that you had a crush on me before we even started fucking?”

“Sssh,” Grantaire says, and Enjolras takes his hand to kiss his palm, and then pulls him towards the bed. Grantaire runs his finger through Enjolras’ curly hair.

“In hindsight, I guess I’m lucky you’re so oblivious, though. I love Courferre, and I’m sure it sucked for them when we got together, but- I’m still glad I got to you first. How tragic it would have been, for you to start sleeping with my best friends.”

Grantaire tilts his head back to laugh as they settle back on the bed. “I mean, at that point you were hardly looking my way. In fact, if I had’ve started fucking them, you’d have no reason to see me as a potential boyfriend in the first place. Besides, if you remember correctly, you didn’t even want one of those.”

Enjolras purses his lips and strokes his knuckles along Grantaire’s chest. “I guess. But what made me fall in love with you was time and proximity. If you were here all the time being cutsey with Courf and Ferre, I might have still developed feelings.”

“You sure it wasn’t just because I’m _amazing_ in the sack?”’

“That helped too,” Enjolras admits. “But I can’t fathom not falling in love with you eventually,” Enjolras softly declares, holding Grantaire’s hand to kiss the top of his knuckles.

“My god you are sappy,” Grantaire scoffs.

“Mmmh, you wanna start comparing me to Greek Gods again any time soon?”

“Shut up.”

“Okay,” Enjolras says, and he presses his lips together. Grantaire meets his eyes, then kisses him.

“God you’re-” Enjolras laughs, but keeps his mouth shut tight. Grantaire groans. “Fuck off. You may speak, my liege.”

“Do _not_ call me liege, R.”

“Okay, shut up again.”

“Grantaire!”

Grantaire laughs and buries his face in Enjolras’ chest, and Enjolras hugs him tight to his body.

“I love you,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire nods against him.

“Hey. Are we too intoxicated to provide adequate consent?”

Enjolras breathes a laugh. “I don’t know, do you feel too intoxicated to give consent?”

“I do not.”

“I also feel comfortable giving consent,” Enjolras confirms, so Grantaire shifts to push Enjolras back down on the bed, and climb on top of him.

\--

“Hey, um, about last night,” Courfeyrac says, biting the inside of his cheek as he lingers beside Enjolras in the kitchen. “I’m, like, so sorry.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Enjolras waves his hand, and Courfeyrac just sighs.

“But I got weird, and made things awkward,” Courfeyrac whines, and Enjolras puts a hand on his shoulder. “I’m gonna apologize to R, too, once he’s up.”

“I promise, Courf, it’s okay,” Enjolras says, and he collects Courfeyrac in his arms. Courfeyrac sighs again.

“No hard feelings for the whole, well, everything?” Courfeyrac asks, and Enjolras clutches his forearms.

“None,” Enjolras assures him.

“Morning, Courf,” Grantaire says, trailing in from the hallway. Courfeyrac presses his lips together.

“Hey,” he says.

Enjolras moves to grab the coffee pot, pours Grantaire a mug, then hands it over to him. Grantaire kisses him on the cheek.

“How are you feeling?” Grantaire asks, and Courfeyrac tucks a springy curl behind his ear.

“Not too bad,” he says, and Enjolras lifts his own coffee mug in greeting as Combeferre arrives in the kitchen with them. “So, um,” Courfeyrac starts, and Enjolras fixes him with a look. “Okay- I’m just really sorry!”

Grantaire perks a brow, “Dude, it’s fine.”

Courfeyrac just makes a noise, “It was really weird of me and if I felt the need to bring it up at all, which I did not have to, I should have done it in a much better manner. Not drunk and flippant.”

Grantaire just shakes his head.

“I also apologize for my role in things,” Combeferre clarifies.

“C’mon, you two,” Enjolras places his cup down again to put his hands on his friend’s shoulders.

“It’s seriously okay. I mean. It’s sort of an ego boost? And, for the record, I’m a little sorry myself for not noticing the apparently very _overt_ hints you two were dropping. I didn’t actually mean to, um, reject you,” Grantaire rubs the back of his neck, and Enjolras looks at him with smirk that reaches his eyes.

Courfeyrac blushes, showing up just faintly on his skin, and laughs a little awkward, “Yeah, that’s okay.”

“To think, you could have stolen my man before he was mine. I love the two of you, but, I can selfishly admit I’m glad Grantaire didn’t start fucking my two best friends,” Enjolras leans against the counter again and sips his coffee, and Courfeyrac shoots him a withering look.

“Well, you two _are_ incredibly cute together and I wouldn’t break you up for the world,” Courfeyrac says, glancing between Enjolras and Grantaire.

“Wait, is that to say you would have fucked us, if we’d asked?” Combeferre asks, and Courfeyrac gives a scandalized gasp. “I know it’s inappropriate to ask, but I believe it’s better to just clear the air. It’s out in the open, we can have this conversation once, and never speak of it again.”

“I mean, yeah,” Grantaire says, eyes darting to Enjolras, who takes a long drink of his coffee and puts his mug down. “I would have assumed it was just a hookup or a one-night-stand between friends, but I woulda done it. Which- okay, if we’re having this conversation anyway, did you _just_ want to fuck me, or did you want to date me?”

Courfeyrac purses his lips, and, once again, looks over at Enjolras. Enjolras’ expression is decidedly neutral.

“Well, we did want to do both,” Combeferre bites his lip. “I guess- sort of a, ‘let’s screw around and see where this takes us’, type thing. We, uh, we were both crushing pretty hard.”

“Oh,” Grantaire, says, and Enjolras runs a hand down his forearm, and for a moment, it looks like he’s trying not to laugh. “I am shocked and mildly appalled.”

“Appalled?” Courfeyrac asks, brows knit together. “That’s kinda of mean.”

“Not, like- I just. I can’t believe- I don’t get it. It doesn’t make sense,” Grantaire says, and Courfeyrac just tilts his head.

“You’re very likeable,” Enjolras says, repeating his statement from the night prior.

“I do not agree,” Grantaire says, and Enjolras just smiles fondly.

“Well, again, we did like you. I mean, we do still like you, clearly,” Combeferre says.

“Just so I know- do you two still actively want to fuck my boyfriend, or are you in the mostly over it territory?” Enjolras asks, “that is- if Grantaire is comfortable with you answering. His comfort is more important than my curiosity.”

“No, I mean, I’d sort of like to know I guess?” Grantaire adds. 

“I plead the fifth anyway,” Courfeyrac says, glaring at Enjolras.

“So you _do_ still want to fuck me?” Grantaire balks.

“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.” Courfeyrac places two fingers on his temple.

“You shouldn’t have tired to apologize again,” Enjolras says, and Courfeyrac looks at him with utter disdain. Enjolras gives him a tiny smile.

“We aren’t trying to bed you, Grantaire,” Combeferre says.

“But do you _want_ to?” Grantaire demands.

“Are you offering?” Courfeyrac half-snaps, and Enjolras snorts, then glances at Grantaire. Grantaire looks at him. “You have a boyfriend.”

“So do you,” Enjolras says.

“Will you quit pouring gas on this dumpster fire,” Courfeyrac pokes him in the chest.

“I like arson,” Enjolras replies, and Courfeyrac fights a smile.

“Fuck you,” Courfeyrac says, and Enjolras just makes a face at him.

“Thought it was my boyfriend you wanted to-”

“Finish that sentence, Enj, I fucking dare you,” Courfeyrac’s eyes are wide and menacing and Enjolras puts a hand over his mouth to cover a laugh.

“I really like how funny you think this is,” Grantaire observes, and Enjolras shrugs.

“We should all just take a deep breath, and think of what we want to get from this conversation,” Combeferre says slowly.

“How about _out_ of it?” Courfeyrac asks, with a sigh.

“I just- I want to know where everyone stands, vis-à-vis wanting to fuck me and also, uh, like, where that leaves us afterwards?” Grantaire adds.

“Is it helpful if I say I want to fuck you?” Enjolras asks, voice quiet, and Grantaire punches him in the arm. Enjolras rubs his bicep and murmurs, “Noted.”

“Be serious,” Grantaire , and Enjolras just nods, trying not to smile.

“This is just a very bizarre conversation and I am trying to cope,” Enjolras defends, voice still quiet.

“I will say,” Courfeyrac starts slowly, “I am still _attracted_ to you, Grantaire. I love Enjolras and you both, and I’m not trying to be some sort of homewrecker, but I admit my crush has not completely extinguished.”

“Nor has mine,” Combeferre says, and Grantaire nods.

“So, about where that leaves us?” Enjolras asks, finally seeming to play nice. “Obviously I don’t want my boyfriend to leave me for, well, anybody. Including my best friends. But…”

“But?” Courfeyrac asks, tilting his head.

Enjolras looks at Grantaire and seemingly tries to communicate something with him. Grantaire just waves his hands in confusion. “You said yourself, you would have slept with them. Is that going to, y’know, come up again? Or have any implications?”

“Oh,” Grantaire says, like he hadn’t considered that, and he hasn’t really.

“Please don’t try to spare our feelings,” Combeferre says, and Grantaire just blinks.

“I mean, obviously I’d never cheat on you Enjolras, so it’s not going to ‘come up’ as a problem. It’s not like this actually changes our relationship. If I _weren’t_ dating you, I mean, I’d still just as easily tumble into bed with them, I guess? I don’t know if I’d have _romantic_ feelings, though. But, obviously, we’re all of us in committed relationships now, so it’s a moot point,” Grantaire says.

Courfeyrac nods slowly, and so does Combeferre.

“Okay,” Combeferre says. “So. There is some lingering attraction on our part, Grantaire would have fucked us but is committed to Enjolras now. Nothing is going to change between us, and we can- put this issue to bed, so to speak.”

Enjolras covers a snort and Grantaire drags his hands down his face, but smirks a little.

“I’m gonna kill you,” Courfeyrac says plainly, and Combeferre tries not to smile. “Anyway. Now that that mortifying ordeal is over... Do we wanna order in some greasy breakfast?”

“Yes, definitely,” Enjolras says.

They all move towards the living room and Enjolras puts their order in on his laptop, then chat about entirely unrelated things until their food arrives, and they eat.


	15. Chapter 15

Things are normal after that. After the bonfire, and their awkward conversation. 

As promised, the feelings between Combeferre, Courfeyrac, and Grantaire don’t come up again. The rest of the summer, their days are spent at jobs or the occasional protest, and their evenings are spent either brushing up on reading or hanging out, oftentimes with the whole four of them.

Cosette and Marius have started spending a bit more time at Cosette’s place, frequently inviting Eponine over as there well. Grantaire tries to needle her about this, but Eponine is ridiculously evasive on _that_ whole thing.

Occasionally, they’re all at Chez Les Amis together, as crowded as it gets.

And at least once a month, they make sure to invite over the extended friend group, too.

Sometime before August ends, they’re going to have another beach party, but for now they’re all piled together in the living room, with music playing.

“So, like, is your name seriously not on the lease yet?” Bossuet asks Grantaire, who is sitting sideways in his lap on a new used chair Courfeyrac bought.

“No, and Enjolras won’t let me pay rent,” Grantaire says, shooting his boyfriend a look. Enjolras is folded up on the loveseat with his hand in Jehan’s lap getting his nails painted, as Cosette sits on the arm of the loveseat behind Jehan to braid their hair more elaborately than usual. “I’m still technically paying rent at my actual apartment, so he refuses to allow me to pay twice.”

“I mean, it would kind of be a waste of money,” Bossuet agrees.

“He’s the one that has a freeloader for a boyfriend,” Grantaire shrugs, and lifts his cup to his lips. Bossuet does as well.

Courfeyrac lands on the arm of the chair behind Grantaire, and Grantaire tilts his head back to look at him.

“Hey Courf.”

“Hey,” Courfeyrac smiles at him.

“Wanna dance?” Grantaire asks, lifting his head and then draining his drink. Courfeyrac smiles slowly.

“Sure,” he says, sliding back off the arm of the chair again.

It’s not one of the raging parties they’d been throwing a lot during the school year, but the music is still fit for dancing, so Grantaire stands up and takes Courfeyrac’s hand, pulling him towards the speaker and dancing.

Grantaire glances over again, and Enjolras is blowing on his nails as Cosette laughs loudly and covers Jehan’s eyes with her hands. Enjolras’ nails are bright red, and he glances up just before Grantaire looks away, smiling at him.

Grantaire is glad, that this isn’t awkward or anything. He can still dance with Courfeyrac, and Combeferre, without feeling overly weird about it. Their friendship is fully intact, and probably even deeper, because they all spend so much damn time together.

So, he pulls Courfeyrac closer by the hips, not _club_ close, but closer.

A few moments later, Cosette jumps up from the chair and pulls Eponine to dance with her. Courfeyrac turns to take her Cosette’s free hand, and Grantaire brushes his shoulder against Eponine’s, who gives him a look he can’t actually discern.

When Grantaire looks for his boyfriend again, Combeferre is sitting next to him, with Jehan nowhere to be seen. They’re clearly talking even though they aren’t looking at one another. Enjolras is looking at his nails and probably fighting with himself to not do something that will fuck them up, and Combeferre is looking at Grantaire and Courfeyrac. He lifts his cup when Grantaire catches his eye.

Grantaire nods, and goes back to dancing as Courfeyrac and Cosette yell along to the song that’s playing.

The night goes on, and everyone continues to drink, but no one is _too_ wasted.

At the end of the night, after pizza, Jehan decides to steal what was formerly known as Courfeyrac’s bedroom, and Eponine tries to claim the loveseat before being dragged downstairs by Cosette’s polite insistence that she can sleep with her in Marius’ room, so Feuilly claims the loveseat instead and Baz takes the couch to himself for once.

Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta take a cab home. They want their king-sized bed, thank you very much.

“I’m not even tired,” Courfeyrac stages whispers to Grantaire in the kitchen, and Grantaire nods.

“Me either,” he confesses, Enjolras placing a hand on his hip to pass by while he puts the pizza away.

“We can go downstairs,” Combeferre suggests, “and try to be quiet.” The other three nod, and head downstairs with tall glasses of water.

Enjolras flops onto Combeferre’s bed and sips his water, and Grantaire crawls to sit next to him. Courfeyrac grabs a pillow and lies on his stomach on top of it, and Combeferre sits criss-cross on the bed.

“Did you have fun, R?” Courfeyrac says quietly, and Grantaire drinks his water, too.

“I did. Did you?”

“Very much so,” Courfeyrac informs him, and Grantaire laughs against his cup, trying to stay quiet. Then, he leans over to put the water on the nightstand.

“Can’t believe it’s almost the end of summer,” Combeferre comments.

“Ugh,” Enjolras says.

“True, but, that means Halloween is coming up soon,” Grantaire says. “Do you know what you’re dressing up as?”

“Do _you_?” Courfeyrac asks.

“I’ve been planning our outfits since last month,” Grantaire says, gesturing towards Enjolras, and Enjolras just shakes his head.

“I’m letting him do this thing,” Enjolras says.

“Are we going to host a party here?” Combeferre asks.

“Obviously,” Courfeyrac says, patting his boyfriend on the knee, then sliding to his inner leg a bit. Combeferre laughs at him and places his hand atop Courfeyrac’s. “We still need to get through September first, though.”

“I think we should be extra thankful to Grantaire, this year,” Combeferre comments, and Grantaire perks a brow. “I don’t know if I would be able to survive another year of going to a club _every_ Friday just so Enjolras can get laid.”

“Hey, I told you two _constantly_ that I was fine going to the club by myself,” Enjolras points towards Combeferre with accusation. Combeferre smirks, as Courfeyrac laughs.

“And we would’ve kept coming with you anyway,” Courfeyrac says, and Enjolras rolls his eyes.

“That’s your prerogative,” Enjolras says, and this time Grantaire snickers. “I do agree, it’s actually nice to stay in more Friday nights. Men, I think we might be… getting old.”

Grantaire groans and rubs at his face. “If the wrinkles on my forehead have anything to say about it, yeah.”

“You have no _wrinkles_ on your forehead, you have fine lines. And even if they were, wrinkles are not a negative trait,” Enjolras says.

“Boo, I didn’t say they were a bad thing, just that they’re there. Because I’m decrepit.”

Courfeyrac snorts, “Grantaire, you’re, like, 26!”

“They’re not even because of age, they’re because you’re expressive,” Enjolras argues. Clearly this is something they’ve gone over before.

“They’re a terrible and gruesome sign of my increasing age,” Grantaire insists, smirking.

“Shut up,” Courfeyrac says, sitting up to thwack him with a pillow.

Grantaire laughs, “I look like a crypt-keeper.”

“Stop it. You’re still young and still hot,” Courfeyrac says, and Grantaire holds his hands up to prevent another attack.

“Guys, sssh, Marius and Cosette are trying to sleep,” Combeferre points out.

“Yeah, with Eponine,” Grantaire snorts. “They’re probably awake and gazing at each other over her sleeping body, still confused as to why she doesn’t understand they want to fuck her.” 

“What a specific word picture you’ve painted,” Enjolras snickers.

“Hey, at least Courf and I know we aren’t the _worst_ couple in the world at trying to get someone to sleep with us,” Combeferre says, his face heating up belatedly. They aren’t supposed to talk about this.

“But they managed to get Eponine into bed with them,” Enjolras points out.

“We told you guys about our feelings,” Courfeyrac defends.

“ _After_ I stole your man, that doesn’t count,” Enjolras says, and Courfeyrac turns to him with his pillow. “Courfeyrac! I have water.”

“Oh shit,” Courfeyrac laughs, and then claps his hand over his mouth. Only a few droplets spill, and Enjolras forces his laugher to remain quiet as he tries to dry it off with his sleeve. Grantaire grabs the pillow from Courfeyrac.

“Yeah, they still have a chance to get Eponine to sleep with them,” Grantaire says, “although at this point, it’s not in the forecast as far as I can tell.”

“Ouch, we _know_ you don’t want to fuck us, you don’t have to remind us all the time,” Courfeyrac says.

“I mean, it’s not a matter of not _wanting_ to,” Grantaire says without thinking, then he glances at his boyfriend, who just snorts.

“You’re cruel, R,” Combeferre says. “Don’t string my boyfriend along with your mysterious ways and wiles.”

“I’m not trying to! Besides, you were the one who brought this whole thing up again.”

“Yeah, babe, we aren’t supposed to talk about this again. One and done,” Courfeyrac says, looking at Combeferre.

“I wasn’t thinking. We need to stop getting drunk together,” Combeferre sighs.

“We live together, that isn’t about to stop happening,” Enjolras points out, and then he finishes his glass of water, and moves to put it on the other nightstand. “Love?”

“Yes?” Grantaire asks.

“Oh, wait, no this isn’t appropriate to ask in front of people,” Enjolras says. “I’m changing my stance. Ferre, you’re right, we shouldn’t drink together.”

“Okay, that’s crazy,” Courfeyrac says, and winces at the look he gets, “sorry, um, that’s _wild_. We’re obviously going to be drinking together. Just tell your boyfriend not to be such a tease.”

Enjolras raises his brows, and Courfeyrac rips the pillow from Grantaire again, and hits him.

“With _us_. He can tease you to his heart’s content,” Courfeyrac clarifies, and Enjolras puts his face in the blankets to stifle the noise of his laughter. “Fuck you, Enjolras!”

“SSH!” Combeferre says.

“Again, Courf, I thought it was my boyfriend you wanted to-”

“I’m gonna fucking kill you,” Courfeyrac hisses, dropping his pillow to put his hands on Enjolras’ neck- lightly, of course, he wouldn’t actually choke his friends non-consensually. Enjolras covers his mouth with both of his hands to try to quiet his laughter.

“Wait, wait, what the _fuck_ were you going to ask me, Enj?” Grantaire asks, shaking his head at the antics on the bed in front of him. He’s even moved away a bit, closer to Combeferre where there’s less chaotic energy.

“I mean, I already do know the answer, and I shouldn’t ask you in front of people,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire just glares at him.

“No way, bucko, that isn’t going to cut it,” Grantaire says.

“Bucko?” Combeferre mutters.

“Okay, fine. _Do_ you want to fuck them? I mean, they might not be amenable to it anymore, but- you literally just said you do _want_ to. If it wouldn’t bother me, and they agreed, would you still fuck Courfeyrac and Combeferre?”

“You were right, you probably shouldn’t have asked that,” Combeferre mutters, and Courfeyrac sits back a bit, so Enjolras can sit up, too.

“He wanted to hear it,” Enjolras says, motioning towards his boyfriend. Grantaire sighs and wishes he were drunker.

“You don’t have to answer,” Courfeyrac says.

“Do you want me to answer?” Grantaire asks, and Courfeyrac shrugs.

“Sort of, yeah, but it’s your choice.”

“Okay. Yeah, I kind of want to fuck you I- it seems like it would be fun, and hot, and obviously I like and trust you two.”

“And you said you knew this?” Combeferre asks, looking at Enjolras. Enjolras shrugs.

“We’ve been dancing around the topic a bit as of late.”

“Hm,” Combeferre says.

“The thing is, obviously, I’d like for us to fuck you,” Courfeyrac says, “but at this point- I don’t know that we can _just_ fuck you, no strings attached. We’re not as foolish as you were with Enjolras, nor as self-loathing, no offense.”

“None taken, it was a dumb and self-sabotaging decision to make, it’s just unfathomably good luck it turned out how it did,” Grantaire says.

“I mean, it’s not _all_ luck,” Enjolras says, “I don’t know how I feel about fate or soulmates, but- we belong together, R.”

“Sure, whatever,” Grantaire waves his hand, because they’re in the middle of a conversation and he can’t stop to sob about that. Enjolras pouts. “I love you, Enjolras. And I care about the two of you, a lot,” Grantaire says, to Courf and Ferre. “I _am_ attracted to you both, and I guess that doesn’t change anything. I don’t want… to break your hearts. And I don’t want it to impact our friendship.”

“That’s the thing,” Courfeyrac sighs, “and even if we could sleep with you without strings attached, are you seriously okay with all of this, Enjolras? It’s just- you’ve never loved anyone like you love Grantaire.”

“Other than you two,” Enjolras says. His gaze is intense for how drunk he’d been an hour or two ago, “sure, the nature of my feelings are different, but I’ve told you before- I feel as deeply for you and Combeferre as I do for Grantaire.”

“Caring deeply for us doesn’t necessarily beget letting us fuck your boyfriend,” Combeferre says.

“It’s also his body and his choice,” Enjolras says, glancing at Grantaire. “As long as I know he loves me, and I do- in fact, he thinks I hung the stars for some reason-”

“That’s because you did, Apollo.”

“But if I’m the God of the sun, why would I be responsible for hanging the stars?”

“You are rapidly losing the plot,” Courfeyrac mutters.

“That might be for the best at this point,” Combeferre says.

“No, no,” Enjolras says, “bringing it back around- I don’t get why you two are all _that_ confused. Clearly you’re also polyamorous.”

Courfeyrac and Combeferre blink at one another.

“You wanted to open your relationship to a new person, together. That’s polyamory. I’ve been coming to terms with my own polyamorous identity but, really, think about it- the three of us have been in an unlabeled queerplatonic relationship for, well, probably a decade by now, and it just so happens that we all fall for the same one guy within a year?”

Grantaire looks at Enjolras curiously, and then back at Courfeyrac and Combeferre, who are regarding each other in much the same way.

“I mean if _you’re_ polyamorous and _we’re_ polyamorous… who’s flying the plane?” Courfeyrac asks, and Enjolras looks like he’s caught between annoyed and amused. 

“I think the most important question might be- is Grantaire also polyamorous? We need to know that before we can figure out who’s piloting this wreck,” Combeferre asks, and then they all turn to Grantaire.

He hates it when they all look at them at once, it reminds him of how intense they all are in their own way- why they’re such good friends or, as Enjolras finally called out, queerplatonic partners. Their combined gaze makes him feel hot. If he thinks about it for a moment, if he can hardly handle them looking at him curiously, would he be able to handle all _three_ of them looking at him with adoration instead?

“Uh,” Grantaire says, and Enjolras reaches for his hand.

“We do not mean to put you on the spot,” Enjolras says. “We don’t have to jump into a queer foursome with two of our best friends right now, this second.”

“I, I mean,” Grantaire knits his brows. “I might be? Polyamorous, that is.. I already said, I _am_ in love with Enjolras, and I do still want to sleep with you two- I guess that’s normal, still being sexually attracted to other people even when you’re in a relationship, though,” Grantaire bites his lip.

“Well, yeah,” Enjolras says, and Combeferre nods.

“But, at the same time,” Grantaire presses his lips together again. “Like, for me, love is usually incredibly all-consuming. Sure I _can_ fuck other people, and be okay with that, if I’m just pining and longing from afar. But when I’m _in_ love, and in a relationship, I am genuinely one-track minded.”

“So, you’re super monogamous?” Courfeyrac asks.

“I thought I was? But, I’ll say yet again, I still want to- to be with you, and Combeferre.. like, physically. And I mean- If we _did_ start sleeping with each other, in theory, and it wasn’t just a one-off thing but we were fucking on the regular. Well, how would that be any different than my relationship with Enjolras? We literally call half our hang outs dates as it is, Courf.”

Courfeyrac nods slowly. “So you- _do_ want to jump into a queer foursome with us?”

“I mean. Maybe?” Grantaire says, eyes looking a little wild. “I guess we should probably _all_ sleep on it, and talk privately in our respective couplings but- it’s not off the table, not for me, I just- okay, so, I’m also scared of fucking up what we already have.”

Enjolras squeezes Grantaire’s hand, and Grantaire squeezes back.

Courfeyrac licks his lips, “Yeah, for sure, I mean. We probably should talk this over between ourselves. I agree we shouldn’t rush into anything.”

“No matter what, we’ll all be friends. Our foundation is solid enough to do a little experimentation with how our relationship looks, as long as everyone is okay with said experimentation,” Enjolras says, reaching to take Courfeyrac’s hand with his free one.

Grantaire nods, and then places his hand on Combeferre’s, “Right.”

Combeferre smiles, and flips his palm to squeeze Grantaire’s hand. “Okay. So. We split up for now, talk through our feelings while we’re completely sober and it’s not 3am, and then… we can chat tomorrow evening? Or something?”

Enjolras nods, “I think that sounds reasonable.”

“Okay,” Grantaire says, and Courfeyrac nods.

They slowly let go of one another, and stand to give out hugs before Enjolras and Grantaire sneak as quietly as possible back up to Enjolras’ room.


	16. Chapter 16

“So, getting back to the question at hand,” Enjolras whispers, and Grantaire sighs.

It’s about 5am and they’re still talking in circles about the pros and cons, the ‘what ifs’ about tomorrow, their potential misgivings, and their feelings.

Grantaire is scared.

However, he’s being way more up front about that than he probably ever has before in a relationship. He’s dropped almost all of the snark for the night, and he’s stated clearly the things he’s worried about. Enjolras has done his best to talk through those worries. 

“I think we should try it. It’s out in the open now, if we all want to be in some sort of relationship but we just decide we won’t because I’m scared, I feel like that would be weird,” Grantaire states.

“But you shouldn’t feel pressured one way or the other, Grantaire. If you’re not ready, we could just say that- they might wait for us, they might not, but, knowing them, they probably would.”

“What does it matter if it’s now or later? I don’t think putting off the decision is going to help anything.”

“Fair point.”

“I’m so tired,” Grantaire murmurs, and Enjolras starts to pet his hair.

“Lover, we should go to sleep,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire whines.

“If we don’t come to a decision, at least about what we’re going to tell them, I won’t be able to sleep,” he repeats, and Enjolras sighs.

“I’m sorry that I can’t decide for the both of us but- for obvious reasons, you will need to be the one to make it. It’s you they want the non-platonic relationship with.”

“I know,” Grantaire says. “It’s so fucked up how okay you are with this.”

“It’s not _fucked up_ to be okay with a non-normative relationship configuration.”

“Call it a non-normative relationship configuration one more time, Apollo.”

“Your _best_ friends are polyamorous, why are you so puzzled that I am, too?”

Grantaire just gives him a sour little frown. “Just so we’re clear, I’m too jealous for an _open_ relationship, I’ll never want us to see other people.”

“That’s not what this is, Grantaire, we’ll be in a closed relationship that includes more than two people.”

“I know, but- we are losing the plot again, Enjolras.”

“That is not my fault, my love.”

“I know,” Grantaire murmurs again. “I love you so much. You know that, right?”

“Of course I do,” Enjolras lifts Grantaire’s hand to kiss his knuckles.

“I want to try it, with them. Courferre. I don’t think _I_ can just… put those feelings away, and as scared as I am that it will blow up, and the whole three of you will hate me, and then I’ll be left alone-”

“That will not happen,” Enjolras murmurs. “I adore you, Grantaire, they adore you.”

“I won’t stop being scared of that,” Grantaire tells him. It’s just fact.

“We’ll do whatever we can to mediate those fears, then.”

Grantaire nods. “I still want to try with them.”

Enjolras smiles. “I… I don’t want you to think this is backhanded, but I know your silly little brain does silly little things sometimes.”

“God, what are you about to say?”

“I’m proud of you. For being scared, but willing to try anyway,” Enjolras says softly, and Grantaire, unsurprisingly, scoffs.

“Yeah, fuck you,” Grantaire says.

“I really mean it. Everyone puts off doing things they’re scared of, myself included.”

“What fears does a God have?” Grantaire asks, and Enjolras gives a weak glare.

“I refused to tell you how I felt until you confessed your own feelings for me, because I was scared,” Enjolras reminds him. “That was incredibly cowardly of me. I could have told you at any point and saved us both the heartache.”

A beat of silence passes.

“ _Are_ we moving too fast?” Grantaire asks. “We haven’t even been dating for a year- I know you swear our foundation is solid but I think _your_ foundation is solid, with Courf and Ferre, but I- I’ve only been friends with them for a year and you for slightly less.”

“We’ve been through a lot in this year, and we’re both adults who know what we want out of life. We’re going to buy a house eventually, and look into selling the land back to the Indigenous landowners, get a cat, you’ll have a better art space and I’ll be practicing human rights law. We already know we might get married but we’re undecided on kids, leaning towards a probable no- I guess if Courfeyrac and Combeferre do really want kids we will want to find that out early enough on. I feel like if they did I would know it, though,” Enjolras muses.

“I guess compatible lifestyles are a pretty big deal, yeah.”

“Again, though, Grantaire… if you sincerely think this is moving too fast, even just between us- you can slow it down at any point. I promise I’ll curb my talks of my five-year plan and we can take it day to day.”

“No, no, I like knowing where you see us headed. I feel like I can slot into whatever you want to do, I’m easy,” Grantaire smirks, “I’ll always have a job at a bar and my art, and my hobbies.”

“Of which there are so many,” Enjolras points out, and Grantaire laughs.

“Yeah, exactly. Ugh, Holy fuck, it’s, like, 5:30,” Grantaire sulks, dropping his phone. His battery is at 13%.

“We should really, really try to sleep, R,” Enjolras tells him.

“I know.”

“If we need to resume talks again in a few hours…”

“No. I- I still want to try it, for better or for worse. As long as Courfeyrac and Combeferre still want to. I don’t think it will blow up. I really hope it doesn’t.”

“It won’t blow up. Things might not work out the way we want it but I promise you, you have me,” Enjolras says. Grantaire tries to believe him.

“Okay. I love you,” Grantaire says, and Enjolras kisses him slowly.

“The depths of my love for you know no bounds,” Enjolras says against his lips. Grantaire smiles.

“Stop stealing my lines, dork.”

“Never,” Enjolras promises.

\--

Most of their friends are gone by the time Enjolras and Grantaire crawl out of bed, save for the one that lives with them, plus his girlfriend and Eponine.

There’s leftover ordered-in breakfast, and Enjolras makes a new pot of coffee as Marius, Eponine, and Cosette sit on the couch.

Combeferre is tidying the kitchen and he and Enjolras move around each other with a bit more hesitation than usual, but Grantaire is the only one who would really notice.

Enjolras holds out a coffee cup to Grantaire and he goes to sit in the new old chair with it, avoiding Courfeyrac’s gaze from the loveseat.

“I think Marius and I are going to go back to my place for tonight,” Cosette says, glancing at Eponine, “did you want to come over and pick up that book from Papa’s library we talked about?”

Grantaire looks at Eponine, who gives him a meaningful glance before shrugging.

“Sure,” Eponine says.

Enjolras brings over a plate of food and balances on the arm of Grantaire’s chair to sip his coffee. “Want me to get up so I can sit in your lap?” Grantaire offers with a tiny smile, and Enjolras ruffles his hair.

“No, you just eat your breakfast in peace.”

“How late did you four stay up? I could hear your giggling until, like, 3am,” Eponine perks a brow at them. 

“Sorry if we kept you awake,” Enjolras says, and Eponine shakes her head.

“Oh, no, I could sleep through an explosion if it’s just a matter of noise.”

“Something else keeping you preoccupied?” Grantaire asks, glancing at Marius and Cosette.

“I was asleep,” Marius declares, “I didn’t even hear you come down the stairs.”

“I think I was out by 2:30?” Cosette says, and Eponine shrugs.

“Sometimes I find it harder to sleep if I’m a certain amount of drunk, does nobody else get that way?”

“Oh, I know what you mean,” Combeferre says, lifting Courfeyrac’s legs so he can sit on the loveseat with him. “Like the world feels a tiny bit tilted and your mind just won’t chill?”

“Yes, exactly,” Eponine says, “so no, it wasn’t _because_ of you, but I could still hear you.”

“Yeah, uh, I think Enj and I were still up at like, 5,” Grantaire confesses. “Just chatting and shit.”

Courfeyrac glances over for just a second before looking back at the television.

Grantaire eats and Enjolras finishes his coffee, then takes their cups and plates into the kitchen.

“Who is supposed to be cooking tonight?” Marius calls out, and Enjolras consults their dry-erase chart.

“Me, which means Grantaire, really,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire snorts.

“Awh, dang. Maybe we shouldn’t go to yours,” Marius says to Cosette.

“They’ll save us some,” Cosette says, “you _also_ need to pick up some books from Papa.”

“That is true.”

“Oh, before you go, I have a book that needs to be returned to him, actually,” Enjolras says, and then he disappears down the hall to come back with a giant tome.

“Are you finished that already?” Cosette asks, accepting the book.

“I had it most of the summer,” Enjolras says, and Cosette pulls a face, still looking down at it. It’s old and regarding law.

“I am so hype for fall,” Eponine says with a long sigh, “I’ve had enough of the hot, sticky weather.”

“I will miss the beach, but I can’t wait to start wearing my long black skirts again,” Cosette agrees.

“I, for one, look forward to pumpkin spice lattes,” Courfeyrac smirks, and Grantaire scoffs.

“Oh, don’t tell me you hate pumpkin spice,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire looks at him.

“Of course I hate pumpkin spice in coffee,” Grantaire says, “it’s overrated and it doesn’t even taste good.”

“Excuse you, it’s delicious,” Courfeyrac says.

“I feel like I like what pumpkin spice lattes represent more than I like the taste,” Cosette hums.

“Uh, capitalism?” Enjolras asks, and Cosette rolls her eyes. “I don’t have a problem with people loving the flavoring but, it is a _huge_ marketing technique.”

“I will concede to that,” Cosette says, “but I meant, like, fall. I suppose you are correct that fall has become this heavily branded thing but, I still love the leaves and the colors and crisp air and the scarfs and the skirts.”

“That red jacket I’ve been told you wear every winter,” Grantaire looks at Enjolras.

“I do love my red jacket,” Enjolras says. “It’s more of a winter jacket though.”

“I’ve been saving up to invest in a couple really nice wool skirts from some Canadian slow fashion brand,” Cosette says, and Enjolras smiles.

“Oh, right, you were saying that all the way back in Spring.”

“Yes!” Cosette says. “So, while the PSL is sort of a capitalist marker, it also makes me feel happy when the season starts to change.”

“Why not just use, like, the actual dates associated with fall rather than a marketing campaign by Starbucks?” Enjolras adds, and Cosette shrugs.

“It can be both and,” she insists, and Enjolras lifts a shoulder.

“I suppose.”

Marius shakes his head, mostly at Cosette actually, and their conversation drifts more to their academic semester coming up, until they decide it’s time to head out.

Combeferre and Courfeyrac excuse themselves fairly quickly once the buffer of their other roommate is gone, and don’t reappear until Enjolras and Grantaire are finished with cooking supper.

Not that Enjolras had much of a hand in supper other than chopping some vegetables and standing there looking pretty, but, still.

When Combeferre and Courfeyrac poke their heads into the living room, and Enjolras suggests they join them, and they sit at the dining table for once.

Their dinner conversation is surface-level and a little stilted, none of them sure when they should bring things up.

In the end, after Courfeyrac has collected the dishes and loaded the somewhat sparingly used dishwasher, Combeferre and Enjolras hold each others’ gazes for a moment before they look at their respective boyfriends.

“So, should we head on into the living room and.. chat?” Combeferre asks, and Enjolras nods.

“Okay,” Courfeyrac says, tugging at the hem of his sweater. It’s one of Combeferre’s, with the emblem of his undergrad university on the front.

Courfeyrac sits on the loveseat again, pulling the sweater over his knees, and Combeferre puts an arm around him. Grantaire and Enjolras sit on the near side of the couch, Enjolras’ hand on Grantaire’s knee.

“So you two have discussed your… thoughts and feelings?” Courfeyrac asks, and Enjolras and Grantaire both nod.

“At length,” Enjolras tells them.

“Do you, uh. Know what you’d like to do, moving forward?” Combeferre asks.

“Can we try not to make this sound like a business meeting?” Grantaire asks, and Enjolras gives him a look. “What?” he mutters.

“Don’t be unnecessarily contrary,” Enjolras murmurs to him.

“That’s a core personality trait of mine, they should know that going in,” Grantaire says.

“We do already know that about you, and it’s okay,” Courfeyrac says, and Grantaire makes a quiet noise of amusement. “But, anyway. So. Where do you two stand on our potential relationship changes?”

Grantaire bites his lip, and Enjolras takes his hand instead of his knee. “I think, um. I want to try it- being with the two of you, and Enjolras.”

Courfeyrac is suddenly blushing, and nodding, and Combeferre presses his lips together to stop from smiling. “Oh. Um, okay,” Courfeyrac says, and Combeferre nods.

“We, uh, we still have some stuff to talk about, though,” Grantaire says, and the two of them keep nodding.

“Of course,” Combeferre says.

“I want to be up front- because I’m shit at that, and it’s gotten me in a lot of trouble in the past, and it might yet, so. If we do this, I know we are going to need to communicate very well,” Grantaire says, and his face is full of distain. Enjolras refrains from laughing.

“Um, yeah. We learned our lesson on that. And, hey, Joly Bossuet and Musichetta have already loaned us some really good reads for polyamory and entering new relationships,” Courfeyrac says, and Grantaire nods.

“Yeah, good idea. The thing is, and I’m sure you’ve picked up on this… I am not always the best at communication,” Grantaire tells them.

“Yes, we have noticed that,” Combeferre says, and Grantaire makes a little face but it’s not like he’s surprised. “There are lots of things we can _all_ do to get better at communication, that will end up being a lifelong journey. I don’t think it’s a reason not to try.”

“Yeah, no, I mean- I’m not saying we shouldn’t, I just want to- to get that out of the way. I don’t want your, um, expectations to be unrealistic or whatever.”

“Of course,” Courfeyrac says.

“There’s one other major thing,” Grantaire says, and he looks at Enjolras. His knuckles are white where he’s gripping his boyfriend’s hand.

“Do you want me to say something?” Enjolras asks, and Grantaire shakes his head.

“I can do it,” he says.

Courfeyrac and Combeferre glance at each other, then Enjolras, then Grantaire, and wait.

“I am so scared of this going south,” Grantaire all but blurts, finally looking away from Enjolras to the other two men. “I know we all think we know what we’re getting into, and maybe we do, but- I find it intimidating that the three of you are so close, and I am scared that something will go wrong somehow, and I’ll lose both of you _and_ Enjolras in one fell swoop. So while I like you, and I really, really want to try this, I’m just- I’m scared,” Grantaire admits.

Courfeyrac bites his lip, “Grantaire, of course it’s okay to be scared, but, seriously- you mean so much to us. Even if it doesn’t work out, we won’t let this end in some nebulous, catastrophic event.”

“Bringing it back to your first point, we all know right now that we are going to prioritize communication. Even if it’s hard, we will _all_ make sure we are trying our best. Of course it’s impossible to predict the future, but I really believe we can make this work,” Combeferre adds.

Grantaire nods, and takes in a deep breath. “Okay. I mean. I can’t say right out the gate that I just believe you, it’s not how I work. You all know what I’m like and I find it so unfathomable that you like me anyway, but, you claim to. So I’m determined to try to trust that.”

Enjolras leans over to kiss Grantaire on the head.

“I’m sure we’ll all have anxieties and insecurities that will come up as things develop,” Courfeyrac says, and then he scoots a little closer on the edge of the chair and reaches for Grantaire’s free hand. Grantaire takes it.

“Yeah,” Grantaire breaths. “Um, I do have one other thing- more of a question, to pose to the, uh, group? The queer foursome we’re apparently entering today.”

Courfeyrac giggles, at that, a little high-pitched and off. Grantaire squeezes his hand.

“What is it?” Combeferre asks. Grantaire looks back at Enjolras.

“What _is_ this going to look like? Will your relationship with Enjolras change? Am I like a kid in a divorce, splitting my time between my three boyfriends, like, what?”

Courfeyrac and Enjolras both snort at the divorce comment, then Enjolras fixes him with a look.

“I think that’s for us to decide now, and then tweak as time goes on,” Combeferre states.

Courfeyrac looks at Enjolras, who stares back at him with a matched intensity, then looks at Combeferre.

“ _Should_ our relationship change? Between the two of you, and me, independent of Grantaire,” Enjolras asks, and Combeferre hums thoughtfully.

“I mean. We’re all three of us pretty hot,” Courfeyrac says, and Enjolras raises his brows for a second in agreement.

“We have kissed before, and it’s never seemed to spark any romantic feelings,” Combeferre says, “but that was in the context of us being best friends, or, really, queerplatonic partners.”

Courfeyrac bites the inside of his cheek. “I mean, being frank, I wouldn’t _not_ sleep with you, Enj.”

Enjolras hums, as well. “I mean- we could _try_ doing more romantically coded things and see how it feels.”

Combeferre nods, “And you don’t think that- you think that level of, what did you call itp experimentation- is comfortable for you? And if _that_ doesn’t work out, it will be okay? I just know, Courfeyrac and I are very certain in how we feel about Grantaire, and as long as you’re okay with it, we feel we can manage us dating him alongside you dating him. All four of us dating feels like a natural extension, but, I’ve never personally considered the thought.”

“You’re talking business again,” Grantaire mutters and Courfeyrac makes a shushing noise at him.

Enjolras ignores the comment and doubles down, “I mean, I do, personally. I don’t think there’s anything that could shake how much I care about the two of you,” Enjolras says, and Courfeyrac smiles. “I… feel like it shouldn’t come as a surprise, but I don’t really- my experience of romantic feelings is sort of weird? I only developed romantic feelings for Grantaire after we started fucking. Maybe if we have sex…”

“You’ll just fall in love with us?” Courfeyrac asks, and Enjolras shrugs in an exaggerated manner. Courfeyrac laughs. “Are you, like, demi-aromantic or something? Like, you only develop romantic feelings through a strong connection with someone. Is that a thing?”

“A lot of things are things, even if we don’t have specific labels for them,” Enjolras says, “but it’s probably a thing. I’m not sure if it’s what I am, but, honestly… I’m not personally so fussed with needing a label outside of gay or queer anymore. I get why they’re comforting for others, of course.”

“No, that’s fair,” Courfeyrac says.

“Should we try to introduce things slowly?” Combeferre asks, “or should we just… go for it.”

“We should probably try to introduce things slowly,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire nods.

“Right,” Courfeyrac agrees.

The four of them remain silent for a few moments.

“So, um,” Enjolras looks over at Grantaire. “Should you kiss them, though? If that’s not too fast.”

“Um, I don’t know?” Grantaire says, “are we- do you want to wine and dine me first?”

“Do you want to be wined and dined first?” Combeferre asks, and Grantaire scrunches his nose.

“You don’t _need_ to. I mean. I think we should go out on a date but I won’t say, like, you shouldn’t kiss me until after we have gone on a date.”

“We _should_ go on a date,” Courfeyrac says, his eyes lighting up, “but I agree that I’d prefer to kiss you sooner than later.”

“Just kiss already,” Enjolras hisses under his breath. Grantaire shoots him a look and pushes into his shoulder. Courfeyrac laughs.

“We have actually kissed before. Just not in daylight,” Courfeyrac points out, and Grantaire breathes in.

“Fuck, just, come here,” Grantaire says, and he moves to the edge of his seat. Courfeyrac leans over, taking Grantaire’s cheek in his hand to kiss him softly. Enjolras leans back, covering his smile with the edge of his hand before glancing at Combeferre.

“Was that okay?” Courfeyrac asks, and Grantaire laughs, a light sound.

“Yes, of course,” Grantaire says, and they kiss once more.

Then, Courfeyrac leans back, and gestures to Combeferre. Combeferre clears his throat and also shifts forward, leaning over his boyfriend to wordlessly kiss Grantaire as well.

Combeferre is less hesitant in his kissing than Courfeyrac, but both are equally pleasant. They keep it chaste.

Grantaire’s face is entirely pink when he settles back into his spot and Enjolras drops his arm on his shoulder.

Courfeyrac places his hand over his mouth and laughs, and Enjolras perks his eyebrow at him. Courfeyrac just shakes his head.

“So- should we have an impromptu movie date?” Enjolras asks, “We could make popcorn and squeeze together on the couch.”

“I like the sound of that,” Courfeyrac says, and the other two nod.

Movie dates are good, because they don’t require talking, and Grantaire is definitely all talked out for the moment.

Enjolras and Courfeyrac get up to make the popcorn, and Combeferre moves to grab some blankets and configure the pillows a bit, so Grantaire moves to help him.

“How are you feeling?” Combeferre asks him.

“Entirely detached from reality,” Grantaire answers. Combeferre nods.

“Mood. It doesn’t feel real.”

“It might in a week or two,” Grantaire says. They settle on the couch, and Combeferre puts his arm loosely around Grantaire’s shoulder, so Grantaire nestles into him and glances over into the kitchen.

They other two are side by side in the small space, Courfeyrac pouring out drinks into lidded cups with metal straws, and Enjolras ensuring the popcorn doesn’t burn on the stove. They keep glancing at one another, missing it each time, until one moment when they book look at once and then quickly look away again.

“You know, there’s no way we’re taking this slow,” Grantaire says, and Combeferre glances down at him.

“Probably not,” Combeferre agrees, “but we want to make sure you’re comfortable.”

“We should all be comfortable,” Grantaire points out.

“You’re more worried about it than the rest of us are. Although, Courf is probably the next most worried, but he has more blind faith than you do.”

Grantaire makes a noise in agreement, then looks back over to Enjolras and Courfeyrac again. They’re dancing around each other delicately now, trying to get bowls for the popcorn while putting supplies away. Courfeyrac jumps back when Enjolras’ hand brushes against him and Enjolras stammers an apology.

“We’re probably going to fuck tonight, aren’t we?” Grantaire says, and Combeferre shrugs.

“Again, only if you want to.”

“In for a penny in for a pound,” Grantaire says offhandedly, still looking at Enjolras and Courfeyrac who are specifically not looking at each other. Combeferre laughs loudly. “Wait, I didn’t even mean- oh my god I’m hilarious.”

“You didn’t even _mean_ to make a joke about pounding?”

“I shouldn’t have admitted it was accidental, you would have thought me a genius.”

“I know you’re a genius. I’ve seen your artwork,” Combeferre says, and Grantaire sticks his tongue out.

“Shut up,” Grantaire says, and Combeferre laughs lightly.

“What’s so funny?” Courfeyrac asks as he walks in with three drinks balanced in his arm, and one in his hand.

“Grantaire is in for a pounding,” Combeferre states, and Grantaire lightly smacks his thigh.

“That is _not_ what I said. Not exactly, anyway.”

“I thought we said we were taking things slow?” Courfeyrac asks with a laugh, and Combeferre shrugs.

“Grantaire’s the one who wants to be pounded,” Combeferre says, and Grantaire shakes his head at him.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Enjolras says, standing with two bowls of popcorn.

“Et tu?”

“Of course.”

“Fuck yourself,” Grantaire says.

“Why would I do that when my options are becoming so plentiful,” Enjolras replies, and Courfeyrac tilts his head back to laugh. “I jest, there’s always a place for self love, even within a relationship.”

“Anyway,” Courfeyrac says, and then he offers one of the drinks to Combeferre, “take your drinks from me. I can sit on Ferre’s lap and then you still get to sit next to your boyfriend, Enjo.”

“Isn’t he our boyfriend now?”

Something tells Grantaire his stomach isn’t the only one that flips when Enjolras says that, especially in his so matter-of-fact way.

“I mean,” Courfeyrac shrugs, and Grantaire takes the cup he’s being offered.

“I guess?” Combeferre says, and Grantaire also shrugs.

“If we’re dating, yeah- I mean, we could take a minute before putting that label on it, but,” he purses his lips, thinking.

“Fair enough,” Enjolras says, and he sits down as well, putting the bowls of popcorn in Grantaire’s lap.

They shuffle a little bit, and Courfeyrac sits in Combeferre’s lap, one of his legs on top of Grantaire’s.

Enjolras finds a movie that they can all agree upon, something light and funny.

Grantaire assumes he’s not the only one who is hyperaware of every shift that happens between them, nor the only one not paying an iota of attention to the movie. All he can feel is Combeferre’s hand on his shoulder and Courfeyrac’s leg on his and Enjolras’ foot nudging his own every few seconds.

It’s almost suffocating, but he doesn’t want it to stop, so he sits there and eats some popcorn and stares at the screen as if he understands anything that’s going on.

When the movie is over, Courfeyrac stands up to stretch, and Enjolras tilts his neck. The two of them collect the bowls, and cups, and go into the kitchen again.

Grantaire slowly stands, as well, and stretches his arms above his head. He doesn’t miss Combeferre checking him out, but he doesn’t call attention to it, either, and Combeferre stands up with him.

Enjolras and Courfeyrac are still bustling in the kitchen when the other two join them, and Grantaire puts his arms around Enjolras from behind.

“Hello,” Enjolras says, turning around, and Grantaire smiles up at him.

“Hey,” he says, and then he glances at the other two. He thinks, for a moment, about his comment about having sex tonight but- he very quickly realizes he’s feeling physically and emotionally exhausted. “So, um.”

“Hm?” Courfeyrac says.

“I think- Enj and I did, in fact, stay up until 5am and this was sort of an emotionally taxing thing to do and talk about,” Grantaire rubs the back of his neck, “I know it’s not all that late, but think I might go lie down.”

“Of course,” Combeferre says, and Grantaire smiles a little, then steps forward to open his arms to him.

Combeferre hugs him back, and then Courfeyrac does as well.

Courfeyrac presses a kiss to Grantaire’s cheek, and Grantaire catches his lips again, just quickly.

“Alright,” Grantaire says, and he looks back at Enjolras.

“We’ll see you two in the morning?” Combeferre asks, and Grantaire nods.

“Sounds good,” Enjolras says softly. “Sleep well, you two.”

“Night,” Courfeyrac says, and the four of them disperse.

Grantaire turns to kiss Enjolras as soon as they’re in his room, and Enjolras pulls him close.

“How do you feel?” Enjolras asks.

“Fine. Overwhelmed. As I said to Ferre, detached from reality,” Grantaire admits, hands on Enjolras’ arms.

“That’s not necessarily unexpected,” Enjolras says, “it’s a big change.”

“It is.”

“Do you think it’s moving too fast?”

“No. We’ve hardly done anything,” Grantaire says, and Enjolras nods. Grantaire hums, thinking, and then pushes up to kiss Enjolras again. “Hey?”

“Hm?”

“Can we fuck?” Grantaire asks, and Enjolras smirks at him.

“If you’re not too tired,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire nods.

“You can bottom from the top and do the real work,” Grantaire tells him, and Enjolras laughs.

“Sure,” Enjolras says, so they move over to the bed and slowly get undressed.

“How do _you_ feel, my angel?” Grantaire asks, with Enjolras leaning over him, kissing his chin.

“I feel good. A little nervous,” Enjolras says, “about Courf and Ferre, obviously, not about sex.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was inquiring about.”

“Okay Mr. No Business Speak.”

“Oh, give it up,” Grantaire huffs, and Enjolras laughs.

“I- I’ve never really thought of my friends this way but,” Enjolras sits up, and takes the moment to grab some lube. “I kind of… it excites me, the idea of kissing either of them, which I think is a good sign.”

Grantaire nods, and Enjolras moves back over to him.

“But this wasn’t really what we talked about,” Enjolras points out, “are you comfortable with _me_ being with them? I- will that not make you jealous? Will you worry about how close I am with them even more?”

Grantaire scowls. “I mean, I can’t say I _won’t_ , that does sound like me. But I also feel, at the same time, it sounds a little easier to me if we’re all in a romantic sexual relationship than if I’m in somewhat separate relationships with you and them but yours is all platonic- I guess. Besides, we’ll just have to see what works out.”

“Hm.” Enjolras hums, and Grantaire groans loudly.

“Baby? Light of my life? Angel in the stars who delivered all goodness unto the world?” Grantaire asks, voice soft and syrupy.

“Do you expect me to answer when you call me that way?” Enjolras narrows his eyes.

“Well, you did, didn’t you?”

“What is it, R?”

“Can we _please_ stop talking about this?” Grantaire asks, breath catching almost unexpectedly. “I love you. I like them. You love them. We won’t be able to figure this shit out in one day or one conversation and I’m just- I’m so exhausted.”

“Sorry, love,” Enjolras says gently.

“It’s not your fault, this is all very important but. I just want to have sex and go to sleep.”

“Of course,” Enjolras smiles graciously, and leans down to kiss him again.

“Fuck. Thank you,” Grantaire mumbles. He understands that, again, entering into the relationship they’re trying to enter is going to take a lot of work both up front and long term, and he tries not to take it as a glaring red flag that today was so exhausting. He rationalizes to himself that it was done on short notice and little sleep and it won’t always be this hard to feel his emotions.

He hopes, anyway.

“I adore you,” Enjolras says against his lips, and Grantaire smiles despite his wandering thoughts.

Enjolras kisses down his body, and, as promised, they have sex, but no more talks about their emotions and the changes to their relationship.

Once they’re cleaned up and in some pyjamas, the two of them snuggle to sleep.


	17. Chapter 17

“Good morning,” Courfeyrac sings as Grantaire wanders into the kitchen, hair damp from the shower. 

“Hey,” Grantaire says, placing a hand on Courfeyrac’s back as he passes him and reaches up for a mug.

“How did you sleep?” Courfeyrac asks, moving to lean against the counter as Grantaire pours two cups of coffee and dumps some sugar into one while pulling a big face.

“I slept well, how about you?” Grantaire asks, looking up. Courfeyrac smiles at him, holding his mug up against his chest.

“I slept well too,” Courfeyrac says, drawing the words out, and Grantaire looks him up and down, then looks back to his coffee.

“Good,” Grantaire says, resisting the urge to smile.

“Hey Courf,” Enjolras greets, and Combeferre lingers at the entryway because, really, their kitchen isn’t that big for all four of them. Grantaire holds out the coffee he made for Enjolras and Enjolras says, “thanks.”

“Hi Enj,” Courfeyrac says, a lilt still in his voice as he glances between the others present.

“Any plans for the day?” Enjolras asks, and Courfeyrac shakes his head.

“Lazy Sunday, probably,” Courfeyrac says, and Enjolras nods. “We’re not only getting old, but boring,” he laments, and Enjolras smirks.

“You could never be boring, Courf.”

“Awh, _boo_ , you’re so sweet,” Courfeyrac coos, and Enjolras chuckles, taking out some eggs to scramble.

“Did you eat?” Enjolras asks.

Courfeyrac nods his head yes.

“We could take a trip to the market, they’re still open on Sundays into September,” Combeferre suggests, and Enjolras’ brows perk up.

“I do like the market,” Enjolras says, tossing his fork into the sink as he looks at Grantaire.

“Sure. I have work at, uh, 6, I think?”

“Are you coming back here afterwards?” Enjolras asks.

“Don’t ask stupid questions, babe, it’s unbecoming of a man so smart,” Grantaire says, placing his hands on Enjolras’ chest.

“You are awfully mean sometimes,” Enjolras pouts, and Grantaire just smirks up at him and kisses him.

“And yet three whole people are clamoring to date me,” Grantaire declares, and Courfeyrac snickers.

“That we are,” Courfeyrac says, and Enjolras moves past Grantaire to heat up his pan, which he forgot to do before he started scrambling the eggs. Grantaire grabs some bread, and puts it in the double-toaster. “Speaking of… so, it’s a date?”

“The market?” Grantaire asks.

“Yeah,” Combeferre says.

“Yes,” Grantaire nods, and Enjolras smiles at him, his eyes sparkling. Grantaire returns the smile, and looks at the other two.

“Good,” Courfeyrac says. “Well. I need to put real clothes on, then.”

“I think you’re dressed perfectly fine,” Grantaire says, glancing him up and down.

Courfeyrac is in a blue cropped hoodie and skimpy athletic short-shorts that have a line green strip up the side of them. He glances down and considers it.

“Honestly, I think the sweater will be too warm, even as a crop top.”

“Take your shirt off, then,” Enjolras suggests, and Courfeyrac laughs.

“You’d like that, hm?”

“Maybe I would,” Enjolras shrugs, pushing around his eggs in the pan and decidedly not looking towards Courfeyrac.

Grantaire makes eyes at Combeferre, who presses his lips together and then smiles.

“Maybe I’ll wear one of my mesh tops just for you, then,” Courfeyrac says with a smirk. “Wonderful first date attire.”

“I thought our first date was last night,” Enjolras points out.

Grantaire grabs the toast and butters it with some vegetarian butter alternative, and gets plates, “Does that count?”

“We did call it a date,” Courfeyrac hums.

“You and I called every time we got coffee or ice cream this whole summer a date,” Grantaire says.

“Guess we’ve actually been dating all summer, then. Can’t believe you haven’t put out yet,” Courfeyrac says, and Grantaire blushes.

“We’ll get there,” Grantaire says, and Enjolras brings over the eggs he made to put on the plates Grantaire already placed out.

“Anyway,” Courfeyrac pushes himself off the counter, moving past Combeferre, “I do still need to get dressed. Once you two are finished eating, we can get ready to go?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Grantaire says, and he and Enjolras sit at the table to eat their breakfast as Combeferre trails behind Courfeyrac down the stairs.

As they said they would, the four of them end up leaving the house about twenty minutes later. Courfeyrac does, in fact, wear a black mesh top that shimmers from purple to green depending on the light, and he takes both Grantaire’s and Enjolras’ hands as they walk to the bus.

The market is crowded, so Courfeyrac loops his arm in Grantaire’s and Enjolras hangs back with Combeferre, just a pace or so behind.

“How are _you_ feeling, about all this?” Combeferre asks him, as Enjolras half expected him to. They haven’t been alone together since the party, after all.

“I feel good,” Enjolras says, “a little nervous, I’ll admit. I- my heart aches for how worried Grantaire is, he swears it’s all okay, and, this morning he seemed fine.”

“Was he not fine, last night? I guess- don’t violate his privacy, but..”

“He was fine. Just, well, he told you himself how he’s worried we’ll all fuck this up and he’ll be left alone,” Enjolras says. “I can’t even conceive of not having him in my life.”

“We won’t fuck this up that badly,” Combeferre assures him. “We’re all human, we’ll all stumble along the way, but, seriously.”

“I know,” Enjolras says, “I just wish I could make him believe that.”

Combeferre nods, and Enjolras bites his lip.

Courfeyrac and Grantaire are a little further ahead now- leaning, heads together, over one of the booths, looking at some little charms made out of clay. When they stand up, Courfeyrac smiles over at Grantaire and Grantaire moves forward, then pauses just a second before kissing him. Courfeyrac grins brilliantly at him, and Grantaire blushes and looks away.

“They’re very cute,” Enjolras says.

Combeferre chuckles, “That they are. And you really don't feel jealous?”

“Do you?” Enjolras asks, genuinly curious. “Courfeyrac is as much your boyfriend as Grantaire is mine.”

Combeferre shakes his head, “No. I’m just happy they like one another.”

Enjolras nods, and Combeferre reaches for his hand. Enjolras takes it.

“I’m not jealous,” Enjolras confirms. “I never have been that prone to jealously, and I know just how much Grantaire loves me. If he was _leaving_ me, I would be- sad doesn’t being to cover it, but seeing him with Courfeyrac doesn’t make me feel jealous.”

“Does it make you feel.. some other kind of way?” Combeferre laughs, a bit of teasing in his voice.

“Are you asking if it turns me on?”

“Not exactly, though the innuendo is there. Let me rephrase- how _does_ it make you feel?”

Courfeyrac looks back at them, his arm still looped in Grantaire’s, and then Grantaire glances back, too. They both smile, then look at each other, before Courfeyrac drops his head on Grantaire’s shoulder and steers him towards another booth he wants to check out.

“Like my heart is full,” Enjolras says. “And-” Enjolras cuts himself off.

“And?”

Enjolras fixes Combeferre with a look, his mouth a straight line, “Ferre, I want to kiss your boyfriend. I don’t know if it’s just that I’m particularly suggestable, since we were talking about it yesterday,” Enjolras says, and Combeferre squeezes his hand.

“I mean, we did explicitly state that we would try, um, romantic behaviours between all four of us. It’s okay that you want to kiss him, Enjolras.”

Enjolras bites his lip. “Yeah. I also would like to kiss you, for the record.”

Combeferre tries not to laugh, and fails. “That can… be arranged?”

Enjolras blushes and stares at him for a moment. “Good?”

“Man.... how did this happen?” Combeferre asks him, and Enjolras hums.

“I suppose our intense attachment to one another since childhood is the root of all of this,” Enjolras says, swinging their hands a little as he considers his point. “Do you think we would have come to this eventually, without Grantaire?”

“I think that’s impossible to say. You said you belong with Grantaire, but if he were to, what, not exist?”

Enjolras frowns instinctively at the idea, and thinks. “In actuality, I belong with all three of you,” Enjolras reasons, “again, platonically or otherwise. I- it will be fun, if romance works between us all, but, even if it doesn’t-”

“We’ll always have each other, Enjolras. A little failed experimentation would never shake us.”

“I know,” Enjolras squeezes his hand again. “I’m not worried about that. I do _hope_ it works out, though. Us having a romantic relationship.”

Combeferre smiles, and squeezes Enjolras’ hand back. “I would like that.”

Courfeyrac and Grantaire pause at the end of the row of booths, and wait for Combeferre and Enjolras to join up with them.

“Too bad it’s so crowded,” Grantaire says, “we could walk hand-in-hand-in-hand-in-hand, but, I think people would have our heads.”

“We would get shanked,” Courfeyrac says, and then leans to kiss Grantaire on the cheek. “Should we switch walking partners, though?”

“Oh, uh, sure,” Enjolras says, and he and Combeferre let go of their hands. Courfeyrac loops his arm in Enjolras’, this time, and Combeferre takes Grantaire’s hand.

“Hey loverboy,” Courfeyrac says, turning the corner towards the next row of booths.

“Hi,” Enjolras says. “How’s your date going?”

“ _Our_ date is going well, in my opinion. Do you disagree?”

“Not at all,” Enjolras tells him. “I enjoy your choice of attire.”

“I thought you might,” Courfeyrac scrunches his nose and looks down.

The scars from his top surgery aren’t at all noticeable if you’re not looking for them, with the dark see-through material, not that Courfeyrac is ashamed or bothered by them. 

“You look cute too, Enjolras,” Courfeyrac tells him, and Enjolras smiles.

He’s in a loose, light pink t-shirt and some shorts, making them, together, look incredibly and overtly gay.

Well, it wouldn’t be an inaccurate assessment.

“Thank you,” Enjolras nods, and Courfeyrac fixes him with that cheerful smile of his.

They approach the booth of another artisan who has green and black hair, with a lip piercing.

“I love your shirt,” they say, gesturing to Courfeyrac, and he giggles.

“I was just telling him that,” Enjolras interjects.

“Thanks,” Courfeyrac says, “your hair is, like, so cool.”

“Thank you,” the artisan says, and Courfeyrac looks down at the braided bracelets, and asks a bit about them. There are a few done up in pride colors.

“Hm, I think Grantaire might like this,” Enjolras says, eying one in green and black.

“We should get it for him,” Courfeyrac says.

“Is there one you like?” Enjolras asks.

“I like all of them, thank you very much,” Courfeyrac glances at the craftsperson with a smile. “I think this is my favourite, though,” he says, picking up the one in lilac and powder blue.

“I’ll get it for you,” Enjolras says, and then he picks one out for Combeferre, and himself, and pulls out his wallet.

“How very sweet of you,” Courfeyrac says, and the artisan offers them a paper bag to put them into. Courfeyrac accepts it, and they continue on their way.

The four of them meet up again at the end of the row, and agree to grab some baked goods, fancy coffees, and sit in one of the few designated eating areas together.

Their table is just big enough for the four of them and their knees bump together underneath as they share around the pastries they all got.

“Oh, Enj and I got something for you. Well. He bought them,” Courfeyrac says, and then he reaches into the bag.

“Oh,” Grantaire says, and when Courfeyrac holds out the bracelet, he offers up his wrist. Then, Courfeyrac does the same for Combeferre, then he puts on his own, and finally takes Enjolras’ hand to slide his on.

“They’re nice,” Combeferre says with a soft smile, as Courfeyrac gets Enjolras to adjust the tightness on his.

“Thank you,” Grantaire adds, and Enjolras smiles over at him.

“It can be, like, instead of friendship bracelets, we have boyfriend bracelets,” Courfeyrac smirks, and Enjolras laughs and says,

“I thought we weren’t ready for that label?”

“They can change from being friendship bracelets to boyfriend bracelets in two weeks,” Courfeyrac tells him.

“Right,” Enjolras says.

They finish off their coffees and pastries, and get up to do one last row of vendors in the last configuration, Enjolras putting his arm around Grantaire in a familiar gesture.

“Having fun on our date?” Enjolras asks him.

“Hey, quick question- do you and Combeferre share the exact same brain, or just 90% of one?”

“Hm. Jury’s still out,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire scoffs.

“I am having fun. You and Courfeyrac flirt a lot, you know that?”

“I- have we always flirted a lot? Or have we just started because of the whole ‘us dating’ thing?” Enjolras asks.

“Honestly I think the two of you have always flirted, but it’s definitely amped up in the past two days,” Grantaire says, “which does make sense given the whole- all of this.”

“Yeah,” Enjolras says. “I told Combeferre I wanted to kiss him, and he said that could be arranged.”

“Jesus Christ, you really are the same person,” Grantaire laughs.

“You know very well that isn’t true. Combeferre has way more patience than I do.”

“Except for when he doesn’t and he decimates someone with, like, three words because they were being an idiot.”

“I suppose. I usually need many more words than that to decimate someone. And he, at least, lets people finish their statements.”

“You share a brain,” Grantaire insists. “Or at least 90% of one.”

“I suppose,” Enjolras says again. “I have not told Courfeyrac I want to kiss him.”

“Why not?” Grantaire asks, “you know it’s okay with me if you do. We’ve discussed it at length and all that.”

“I guess. Would you prefer to be around, or?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Grantaire says honestly. “Should I- do you want to be present every time I kiss one of them, for now?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Enjolras says, giving him a bemused smile. “Go as far as you like with either of them.”

Grantaire nods. “I do think we should at least- say something to each other before we _fuck_ them, but.”

“Of course,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire sighs again and glances back. Combeferre and Courfeyrac are facing another vendor, and definitely out of earshot.

“Tired of the relationship talk again?”

“A little. God, communicating sucks,” Grantaire whines, and Enjolras rolls his eyes.

“Communication is important.”

“And it _sucks_ ,” Grantaire wrinkles his nose.

“And it kind of sucks, yes,” Enjolras admits. He takes in a deep breath. “I think- yeah, if either of us are going to fuck them, we’ll have to decide in advance whether the other should be present. It will depend on how rapidly my relationship with them evolves in comparison to yours. I don’t want to hold you back because I’m not there yet.”

“Let’s just cross this bridge when we’re at least closer to it?” Grantaire asks, and Enjolras nods.

“Okay.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is really long. I couldn't cut it anywhere so eh! 
> 
> ALSO (spoilers for sexual things) I just want to state now- in this fic I've decided Courfeyrac, as a trans guy, does not have bottom surgery and I've used the terms "clit" and "cunt" to refer to his body parts. The other three have penises and I generally use cock for all of them. Please be cautious if any of the language will bother you!

“It’s my turn to cook,” Courfeyrac announces, when they arrive home with a couple paper bags from the craft market, placing them on the coffee table. He picks up his crop sweater to put it on, because the house actually has A/C, and what everyone else thinks is comfortable is a little cold for him.

“Do you require assistance?” Enjolras asks, and Courfeyrac smiles widely.

“Sure, boo,” Courfeyrac says, and Grantaire settles on the couch with one of the larger sketchbooks that has migrated from his actual apartment. Technically he’s also commandeered the desk that used to be Courfeyrac’s in the spare-ish bedroom for his art supplies, but he wants the other boys to remain within viewing distance for the moment.

Combeferre sits on the opposite end of the couch with a book, nudging his glasses into place on his face.

Grantaire does some warmups with spirals and lines for not nearly long enough, and starts to sketch out Combeferre. He has plenty of sketches of all of his friends, at this point, but he wants to capture that little pinch of concentration in Ferre’s brow.

Courfeyrac and Enjolras are, once again, dancing around each other carefully in the kitchen, brushing up against one another and leaning into each other’s space like they usually would.

It’s impossible not to notice the slightly changed energy between them, though.

Enjolras sweeps his arm a little too far when he pushes a dish over towards Courfeyrac, sending a fork that was near the edge of the counter clattering to the floor.

“Dammit,” Enjolras mutters, and they both bend for it at the same time, then hit their heads.

“Fuck!” Courfeyrac laughs, and Enjolras whines, holding his head.

“Sorry,” he says, and Courfeyrac gets the fork, then stands up again.

“It’s okay,” Courfeyrac says, and he leans past Enjolras to put the fork in the sink. Enjolras places his hand on Courfeyrac’s side when he does so, and Courfeyrac looks at him when he straightens up again.

They hold one another’s gaze for another moment or so, and then they start to move again, Courfeyrac tossing some garlic into the pan and then some onions. Enjolras grabs some of the shredded vegan cheese they have.

They stand side by side again for a moment, Enjolras momentarily leaning into Courfeyrac’s space to get out spices from the cupboard, and Courfeyrac smiling almost shyly at him when their eyes connect once more.

“Hi,” Enjolras says, and Courfeyrac laughs.

“Hi?” he says, then he throws the bell peppers into the pan with the onions and garlic.

Enjolras grabs some tortillas from the cupboard, then leans against the counter to watch as Courfeyrac finishes up sautéing the vegetables. Enjolras gets him a plate to put them on, and Courfeyrac smiles in thanks.

Soon enough, they can start assembling their black-bean quesadillas, so Enjolras goes to spoon salsa and store-bought guacamole into bowls that he forget to grab.

“Oh,” Enjolras says, placing a hand on Courfeyrac’s hip to lean over him and reach for the bowls, effectively pressing him into the counter just for a moment.

“Do you mind?” Courfeyrac asks, but it’s the farthest thing from snappy. If anything, it’s a tad sultry. Enjolras moves back to Courfeyrac’s side.

“Oh, sorry,” Enjolras says, blushing just a bit, and Courfeyrac laughs.

“You always do that,” Courfeyrac says softly, a smirk on his lips. Then, he glances Enjolras up and down.

“Do what?”

“You could have asked me to get you the bowl, silly, instead of pushing me to get it,” Courfeyrac explains.

“Would you have preferred I ask you?” Enjolras asks, and Courfeyrac presses his lips together.

“Honestly, in this instance? No,” Courfeyrac says, and Enjolras chuckles, finally twisting the cap off the salsa and pouring some into the bowl.

“Noted,” Enjolras says, and Courfeyrac laughs again, moving ever slightly closer as Enjolras replaces the salsa on the counter.

Courfeyrac bites his lip, then turns towards him fully, and places his hands on Enjolras’ face. Enjolras leans down.

Their lips meet, and Enjolras places his hand on Courfeyrac’s waist, and Courfeyrac wraps an arm around his neck. They kiss a few times, slow, before Enjolras slips his tongue in Courfeyrac’s mouth and Courfeyrac sighs against him.

They hear a throat clearing behind them, and they break apart. It’s neither of their boyfriends, but Marius instead.

“Oh, hey,” Courfeyrac says.

“You might want to check on your pan,” Marius says, and Courfeyrac’s eyes go wide.

“Shit,” he says.

“Oops,” Enjorlas says.

It’s not _too_ burnt, and Grantaire snorts from his spot on the couch where he and Combeferre had been watching with _great_ intent.

“Should I even ask why you two were…” Marius moves his finger between the two of them as Courfeyrac assembles the second quesadilla.

“We’re going to try dating, all four of us,” Grantaire announces, and Cosette, who is bouncing up the stairs from leaving her bag in Marius’ room raises her brows.

“Wait, seriously?” she asks, throwing herself into the free chair.

“Yeah,” Combeferre says.

“We were gone for, like, _one_ day,” Marius says.

“I mean, Enjolras and Grantaire also started hooking up when we were away for one single weekend,” Combeferre says. “It follows the track record they set.”

“It’s just coincidence,” Enjolras says. “Although- I suppose we should discuss when we’ll tell people, and what we tell them.”

Grantaire holds his sketchbook in front of his face, “God, please, no more discussions.”

“Aren’t relationships all about communication, and doesn’t that go, like, triple for poly people?” Cosette asks, and Grantaire groans loudly.

“They are. If you need me, I’ll be wallowing my pit of despair over this very fact.”

“You know you don’t _have_ to date three boys, right?” Marius asks, and Grantaire lowers his sketchbook to fix him with a look of true ire.

“Yeah, but I’m gonna,” Grantaire says, and Marius holds his hands up.

“Right on, just saying,” Marius says, and Cosette laughs.

“Man, are we all going to just end up in poly relationships?” she muses.

“Has… something changed, in your relationship?” Combeferre asks carefully, and Cosette pouts.

“No.”

“Mhm,” Combeferre says.

“But. I mean, I feel like Bahorel and Feuilly and Jehan might get together this year,” Cosette says, her hand on her chin.

“I wouldn’t count on that, Baz is still calling himself straight," Courfeyrac snorts.

“Eh,” Cosette says. “That never stopped me from pining over girls without realizing it as a teenager.”

Enjolras goes to set plates at the table, although it only fits six and they’re seven in total, now. Most of the summer, they ate at different times, each couple basically taking a different interval. He wonders if the four of them will try to eat together more often, if they’re dating.

“Are you, like, going to fully move in, Grantaire?” Marius asks.

“I don’t know. Even if I’m here all the time, I _highly_ doubt all my shit would fit. The shit you four have barely fits in here, and I have a lot of supplies for my many hobbies.”

“I mean, I don’t pay rent here despite being here all the time,” Cosette says, “seems unfair to make you.”

“I wasn’t saying he should pay rent,” Marius clarifies, “I’m just curious.”

“I think I’ll keep my apartment until Enjolras buys me a house,” Grantaire says, lifting his chin, “even if I use it as a glorified storage unit.”

“I mean, this is my last year of law school,” Enjolras hums, “and Marius’.”

“I hate you both,” Combeferre sighs. “I mean. I’ll be done coursework after this year, thankfully.”

“I guess- I shouldn’t assume right now this second we’ll all be moving together when we move out of this house,” Courfeyrac says, flipping the next quesadilla onto the plate, “the four of us, obviously, not Marius.”

“Obviously,” Marius mutters, and Courfeyrac sticks his tongue out at him. 

“I mean. I _would_ assume, if we are all still dating by the time we move out, we’ll probably want to move in together,” Enjolras says. “Say, do you and Combeferre want kids?”

“Oh my god, Enjolras,” Grantaire says. “If I had something to throw at you, I would.”

“What?” Enjolras asks.

“We have been on _two_ dates,” Courfeyrac says with a laugh. “Kids are a little fast.”

“Grantaire and I have discussed our opinions on kids many times and quite in-depth,” Enjolras argues. “And I’m surprised I don’t already know, you two are my best friends.”

“Definitely not until I’m done med school and residency,” Combeferre says.

“I can’t wait to have a baby,” Cosette declares, despite not being asked. Marius smiles a little bit.

“So you guys do want to move out of here, right?” Marius asks, wandering over to sit on the arm of Cosette’s chair.

“Eventually,” Enjolras says.

“Yes,” Grantaire deadpans.

“You don’t even live here,” Marius scoffs.

“Still,” Grantaire shrugs. “Enjolras and I have been talking about getting a house since, like, April. And I want it now.”

“Didn’t you start dating in March?” Cosette asks. Grantaire mutters "yes" under his breath. 

“We are going to look into the possibility transferring ownership of the land back to Indigenous’ peoples when we do,” Enjolras points out.

“Oh, that’s neat!” Cosette says.

“Anyway. Cosette and I have been thinking, y’know, whether we want to move, or if we could sort of take this place over if you all are planning to leave. Definitely no decisions will be made until the end of this year, but.”

Combeferre hums, “I mean, this place is already not big enough for us, and it’s only going to get worse. I think it’s safe to say, if we want to live together, we’re definitely going to be moving out.”

“Right,” Marius says.

“Okay, food is just about done,” Courfeyrac announces, and he and Enjolras bring everything over to the table.

They manage to fit everyone by way of Cosette sitting on Marius’s lap to eat. They chat, about their days, and the last gasps of summer coming up, then Cosette and Marius take off downstairs. 

“I don’t want to go to work,” Grantaire whines as he sits between Enjolras and the arm of the couch. Enjolras kisses him on the top of his head.

“You probably should.”

“I know.”

“Hey, um,” Courfeyrac kneels on the loveseat, a thoughtful expression on his face, “ _are_ you going to tell JMB about this, uh, development?”

“Right,” Grantaire mutters, it hadn’t occurred to him he’ll be seeing Musichetta.

“You don’t have to, right away,” Combeferre says quickly.

Grantaire bites his lip, “I don’t want to keep it from them for long. But. Maybe another day or two?”

“Whatever you’re comfortable with, babe,” Enjolras says.

“Yeah,” Grantaire replies, thoughtful.

With that, he slowly gets up, and gets ready for work as Combeferre joins Enjolras on the couch. He kisses each of them before he goes, which feels both nice and silly, and then heads out the door.

It will be nice, having a few moments to himself away from his _three_ boyfriends.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” Musichetta observes. It’s a Sunday evening, and not many people are at the bar.

“Just thinking. I talked a lot this weekend,” Grantaire says.

“Oh?” Musichetta asks, leaning on her elbows on the bar. “About what?”

Grantaire purses his lips. “So, uh. I might have another relationship update.”

“Huh?” Musichetta tilts her head, then furrows her brows, “I- you two didn’t break up, did you? There’s no way you’d just be here being a little quiet.”

“No, god no,” Grantaire says, then he sighs, “I was going to wait to say something, but, we technically already told Marius and Cosette and there’s really no hiding it- we’re going to try dating Combeferre and Courfeyrac too. As in, all four of us together.”

“Oh, wow!” Musichetta says, and Grantaire meets her sparkling eyes. “One of us,” she whispers, and Grantaire laughs and nudges her.

“Cosette said we’re all turning poly,” Grantaire confesses.

That makes Musichetta cackle momentarily. Then, she asks, “How do you feel?”

“Fine, but emotionally exhausted. I’m already sick and tired of talking about how I feel all the time,” Grantaire says, and Musichetta laughs once more.

“It gets easier to communicate over time. But it’s also not linear, so don’t be surprised when it’s a lot harder some days than others.”

“Right,” Grantaire nods.

“I’m happy for you, R.” Musichetta says, voice sincere as she squeezes his arm. “They’re great guys, all three of them. Say- can I tell JB?”

“Yeah, go for it, keep ‘em in the loop,” Grantaire waves his hand, and someone starts to approach the bar. Musichetta grins and hugs him for just a moment before they address they customer, and get back to work.

Musichetta sends him home a little early, too, because the bar has basically cleared out and she insists she can close up by herself, so Grantaire unfolds his headphones and takes the bus back to Chez Les Amis.

When he walks up the stairs, Enjolras, Courfeyrac, and Combeferre are on the couch with a little bit of space between them, and they all smile in greeting. Grantaire seats himself directly in Enjolras’ lap, slinging an arm around his shoulder, and says,

“Hey.”

“How was work?” Courfeyrac asks, turning down the volume of the show they were all watching.

“A snooze. I ended up telling Musichetta about us,” Grantaire says, and they all smile again.

“What’d she say?”

“She said she was happy to have a new convert to the poly lifestyle, and we swore to recruit the last of our friends before the year is out- I’m sure Cosette will join us in the charge,” Grantaire smirks, and Courfeyrac laughs.

Enjolras wraps his arms around Grantaire’s waist, “I’d ask you how you feel about it, but…”

“Please do not,” Grantaire says, and Enjolras nods against his shoulder, “how is your evening going?”

“Better, now that you’re here,” Courfeyrac says, and Grantaire scoffs.

“We’ve been mostly just watching television,” Combeferre comments, “I can’t even remember the name of the show, though.”

“Must be super interesting and engaging, then,” Grantaire quips.

“I think we’ve all just been kind of waiting for you to come home, not gonna lie,” Courfeyrac says, and Grantaire laughs lightly.

“Awh,” he smirks, “didn’t get up to anything fun while I was gone?”

“Not particularly,” Combeferre says.

“Guess we’ll have to make up for lost time, then, hm?” Grantaire asks, lifting a brow. Courfeyrac smiles, and Grantaire leans forward to kiss him, a hand coming to Courfeyrac’s neck.

“Hey,” Courfeyrac says, “just so you know- Marius and Cosette are out of the house again tonight.”

“Oh?” Grantaire glances to Enjolras, and then Combeferre.

“Yeah. So,” Courfeyrac shrugs with one shoulder, “we have the place to ourselves.”

“Maybe we should… take things to one of our bedrooms?” Grantaire says, looking back at Enjolras again, who smiles coyly. “We don’t have to, um, do anything specific but, we could-”

“Just, like, hang out? Cuddle? See where things go?” Courfeyrac offers, and Grantaire nods.

“If you’re comfortable,” Combeferre says, and Grantaire smiles.

“I would like that,” Grantaire says, “Enj?”

“Sure, let’s go,” Enjolras says, so Grantaire slips off his lap, and the other three start to move off the couch.

“Our bed is a California king,” Courfeyrac says.

“Huh, I thought it seemed bigger than ours- er, Enj’s.”

“It’s our bed now, we can admit that much,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire sticks his tongue out.

With that, they bound down the stairs, and Combeferre shuts the door behind them as the other three hop onto the bed.

Grantaire ends up lying between Courfeyrac and Enjolras, and Combeferre joins them on Courfeyrac’s other side. Grantaire moves to his side, hand lightly on Courfeyrac’s stomach, and Enjolras spoons him from behind.

Courfeyrac smiles, and Grantaire looks between him and Combeferre, and then leans forward to kiss Courfeyrac once more.

He sighs, and Courfeyrac deepens the kiss this time, slipping his tongue in and exploring Grantiare’s mouth. Grantaire slowly trials his hand down Courfeyrac’s front, and then settles his hand just below his navel, playing with the mesh fabric of his top.

Grantaire then feels Enjolras kiss him on the shoulder, through the thin cotton of his t-shirt, and he pulls back from Courfeyrac, who is smiling almost shyly. Grantaire kisses Courfeyrac’s jaw, then glances over at Combeferre, who is watching with an intense gaze.

“Like what you see?” Grantaire teases, voice low, and Combeferre just nods. Grantaire chuckles, and Courfeyrac moves to pull Combeferre over by the shirt.

“Can I see you two kiss?” Courferyac asks, and Grantaire nods, moving to sit up just a bit and lean over him.

Combeferre leans in, too, over top of his boyfriend to take Grantaire’s face and push his tongue into his mouth. Grantaire feels Enjolras grip his side and he sighs, a little louder, against Combeferre’s lips.

They’re all really fucking good kissers.

From there, they move slowly, checking in, and kissing each other periodically, until they’re in an entirely different configuration- now, Courfeyrac is seated in Grantaire’s lap, kissing him senseless as Combeferre and Enjolras lay together, legs slotted, with Combeferre kissing Enjolras down the neck.

“Fuck,” Enjolras whines, gripping the back of Combeferre’s shirt with a tight fist.

“Are we- we’re not moving too fast?” Courfeyrac asks, pulling back from Grantaire’s lips with a glassy look in his eyes.

“Not for me,” Grantaire says, shaking his head. He glances past Courfeyrac’s shoulder to Enjolras, whose neck is still being actively ravished. He feels no jealously, only heat, and it rushes through him quite suddenly. “In fact- I dare say we could move a little faster.”

Courfeyrac giggles, his hands coming up and under Grantaire’s shirt, “How fast, boo?”

Grantaire licks his lips. “I mean. I’m down to do- anything? We could.. we could have sex. If we all want.”

“Um, yes,” Courfeyrac says, and he turns his head, as Combeferre slowly pulls away from Enjolras.

“I’m- I’d like that,” Enjolras says, breathing out a little hard. “I think we should use condoms, just to be sure, though Grantaire and I have not slept with anybody but each other since, well, last fall, and we’ve been tested.”

“We haven’t had any other partners, and we still get tested once a year or so,” Combeferre say, and Enjolras nods, “we usually use protection.”

“I’m on birth control, and T, but, condoms always feel a little safer,” Courfeyrac explains, and Enjolras nods.

“Um, how do we want to do this?” Enjolras asks, following Combeferre as he sits up. “I expect it will be hard to find an act that fully incorporates all four at once, though maybe I’m just not that creative.”

“I think, maybe, pairing off makes sense? And just, y’know, staying close,” Courfeyrac says, “then, if we still have the stamina, we can switch.”

“That works,” Combeferre says. 

“God I’m glad you all are good at talking through shit,” Grantaire scrunches his nose.

“You and I always talk through new things, at least a little,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire chuckles.

“I know, babe,” Grantaire says. “So, um. We can just. Keep on keeping on,” Grantaire slides his hands under Courfeyrac’s shirt and up his back, and Courfeyrac nods, and leans in to kiss him again.

Grantaire moves to remove Courfeyrac’s sweater, then his shirt, and Courfeyrac pulls Grantaire’s shirt over his head, too, then they kiss, until Courfeyrac climbs off Grantaire’s lap and lies back, next to where Enjolras is lying again, and reaches for Grantaire to move on top of him.

Enjolras and Combeferre have also removed their shirts, and Combeferre is back at the bedside table, tossing way too many condoms into the middle of the bed along with a bottle of lube. Courfeyrac laughs a little bit, as Grantaire skims his fingers along Courfeyrac’s soft middle.

“You are so hot,” Grantaire murmurs, glancing up to Courfeyrac.

Courfeyrac laughs again.

“What?” Grantaire asks, and Courfeyrac places a hand over his mouth.

“Okay, okay- I just. I wanted to ask you if I’m as pretty as Enjolras, but I’m not going to do that," Courfeyrac promises, then offers an explanation, "It’s just, when you two first started sleeping together, I was very adamant that I was just as pretty as Enjolras, when I was lamenting you weren’t sleeping with us instead,” Courfeyrac laughs, and Grantaire laughs along with him.

“Of course you’re as pretty as me,” Enjolras says, moving onto his side and skimming his hand up Courfeyrac’s inner arm.

“Awh, boo.”

“If not prettier,” Enjolras says, and Courfeyrac scrunches his nose at him.

“You’re equally beautiful,” Combeferre says.

“I concur,” Grantaire insists, as Courfeyrac and Enjolras kiss. Grantaire just runs his hands up and down Courfeyrac’s thighs, and Combeferre takes the moment to start unbuttoning his pants. Grantaire moves his hands to the waistband of Courfeyrac’s pants, and waits a moment for Courfeyrac to glance up at him again. “May I?

“Mmhmm,” Courfeyrac nods, and Enjolras kisses him on the jaw one last time before returning to Combeferre, who leans over to kiss him again. Grantaire slowly pulls Courfeyrac’s pants off, and then leans over him again, pressing his hand between Courfeyrac’s legs.

As that happens, Combeferre murmurs, “Enj, how do you want to do this?” Enjolras hums, considering it.

“From behind?” he asks, and Combeferre nods. They move to take off their last few articles of clothes, and Enjolras gets to his hands and knees.

Then, Grantaire slips his hand down the front of Courfeyrac’s boxers and kisses his neck, brushing against the thatch of hair before pushing his finger to find Courfeyrac’s clit, toying lightly as Courfeyrac’s breath hitches. Grantaire sucks on his neck.

Courfeyrac glances over to watch as Combeferre comes up behind Enjolras, then his eyes flick to Enjolras’ and he smirks. Enjolras smiles back, blushing.

Grantaire moves to take off Courfeyrac’s boxers completely, now, then grabs some lube before sliding a finger inside of him and hearing his sigh. “Let me know if anything’s uncomfortable.”

“Of course, boo,” Courfeyrac says, and Grantaire bites his lip.

He glances back at Combeferre a few moments later, who is slowly stretching Enjolras. Combeferre leans forward for just a moment to kiss him, then Grantaire returns his attention to Courfeyrac again.

Courfeyrac tilts his head back and moans when Grantaire presses his thumb up to his clit, then adds a second finger. 

“Damn, you’re going to give Enjolras a run for his money for loudest in bed,” Grantaire teases, and Courfeyrac laughs.

“That’s unlikely,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire snorts.

“I agree, I’ve heard you get fucked. I have nothing on you,” Courfeyrac says, and Enjolras glances away, fighting a smile.

“I, for one, am glad both of you are loud,” Combeferre says, “leaves little question whether you’re enjoying yourself or not.”

“Oh, I fully agree,” Grantaire says, “and it’s not like I’m silent.”

“You’re actually pretty loud too,” Courfeyrac agrees, biting down on his lip, “the two of you have had enough afternoon sex for us to know that.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Grantaire says, and then the bends forward to kiss Courfeyrac on the neck again, and Courfeyrac runs his fingers through Grantaire’s hands.

“Ferre,” Enjolras gasps a moment later, and Combeferre bites back a smirk, leaning over Enjolras to kiss him on the back.

“Hm?”

“You can- I’m good,” he says, and Combeferre nods.

Grantaire lifts his head to look at Courfeyrac again, question on his face. Courfeyrac also nods, quick, so Grantaire moves back to grab a condom, and then take bottle of lube that Combeferre offers him.

“Guess we’ll want a second bottle, in case we need it at the exact same moment,” Combeferre says, and Grantaire chuckles lightly.

“We do have lube upstairs. We can bring it down next time,” Enjolras points out.

“Good idea,” Combeferre says, and then he moves closer to Enjolras again, holding him at the hips.

At the same time, Grantaire kneels between Courfeyrac, holding one of his knees up as he lines himself up to thrust in slowly. Courfeyrac moans, at about the same time as Enjolras, and the two of them look at each other again. Grantaire bites his lip, rolling his hips slowly as Courfeyrac tilts his neck back again.

“Fuck, Grantaire,” Courfeyrac whines, and Grantaire slowly moves to kiss him twice before straightening his back. Next to him, Combeferre is giving similarly shallow thrusts as Enjolras shuts his eyes tight.

Again, Grantaire doesn’t feel jealousy, which is almost a surprise. He’s feeling a little disbelieving, again, that they’re actually doing this. But otherwise it’s hot, and it’s fun, just as he expected it would be.

He glances down the line of Enjolras’ back, and watches as Courfeyrac twists a bit, pushing himself towards Enjolras so they can kiss each other. Enjolras cranes forward to meet him, and they breath against each other.

Grantaire bites his lip and pushes in a little deeper- it’s been a while since he’s had sex involving a cunt and it’s nice. Courfeyrac feels amazing and watching him kiss Enjolras is hot, but it also feels him with warmth and affection. He likes Courfeyrac, he adores Enjolras.

Next, Grantaire glances over at Combeferre, who slides a hand on his back at the same moment. Probably coincidence, but Grantaire wonders if he’s not thinking the same thoughts, as Enjolras and Courfeyrac finally break their kiss to chuckle at each other.

They fit well together. All four of them. Grantaire looks back down at Courfeyrac as he reaches up for him, and he bends forward, kissing Courfeyrac as Courfeyrac groans “harder, R,” against his lips.

Grantaire obliges, until he’s panting against his lips. Courfeyrac hooks a leg around his hips and they move together, fast, until they're both yelling out in ecstasy. They both cum, maybe a little sooner than he wanted, but when Grantaire finally kneels back, it looks like Enjolras and Combeferre are finishing up as well.

“Fuck,” Grantaire says, tossing himself to Courfeyrac’s side, and Courfeyrac laughs again.

“Did you have fun?” Courfeyrac asks, and Grantaire nods. Courfeyrac pulls him over to kiss again, and then they both turn towards the others.

Now, Enjolras is sitting with his forehead pressed against Combeferre’s chest, with Combeferre combing his fingers through Enjolras’ hair, both catching their breath.

“You two?”

“Hm?” Enjolras says, lifting his head. “I very much enjoyed myself, yes,” Enjolras says, and Courfeyrac giggles again.

“I’m glad we did this,” Combeferre says softly, and Enjolras nods against him.

They’re quiet in their snuggling for a few moments, before Courfeyrac asks, “So who wants round two?” Grantaire laughs.

“Okay, maybe you are worse than Enjolras,” Grantaire says, and Courfeyrac shrugs.

“I mean, I wasn’t saying we should jump right back to _penetration_ , just, y’know…”

“Well, how about you and I can do what we like, and these two can do what they like,” Enjolras sugguests, slowly pushing away from Combeferre.

Courfeyrac smirks, and moves to sit up as well, landing in front of Enjolras, “Sounds good.”

Combeferre, then, shifts towards Grantaire, who leans into his space to kiss him as Courfeyrac basically pushes Enjolras back down and crawls on top of him.

Combeferre pulls away from Grantaire slowly, and looks at them. “No, really, I don’t know where they get the energy,” he mutters, and Grantaire laughs.

“Maybe with three of us we can finally find out how much it’ll take to wear Enjolras out,” Grantaire comments, and Enjolras pulls back from the heated kiss he’s engaged with to look at them.

“There is nothing wrong with having a high libido and sex drive,” he says, and Grantaire bites back a smile.

“Of course not, angel,” Grantaire coos.

“I do think R has a point. More boyfriends means the higher likelihood someone else will be horny at the same time as you. There’s really no losing here,” Courfeyrac points out, and Enjolras laughs.

“Fair enough,” Enjolras kisses him again, and then glances at him up and down. “Can I try going down on you? I- I’ve only done that, like, a couple times with a trans guy, so I might not be great, but- if you’re okay with it.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Courfeyrac says, eyes alight with mirth. “I would love that for us. I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

Grantaire trails his hands up and down Combeferre’s side as the other two get situated in a different position. Combeferre holds him close and kisses along his collar, paying full attention to Grantaire even as Grantaire watches Enjolras and Courfeyrac.

Eventually, though, Combeferre brings his attention to their lips, kissing Grantaire deeply. Their tongues tangle as Courfeyrac moans to the side of them. Grantaire lies back, pulling Combeferre on top of him.

“Do you want to have sex again?” Combeferre asks, and Grantaire hums.

“Yes, actually,” Grantaire laughs, “I like to take the piss with Enjolras, so to speak, but I bounce back fairly quickly.”

Combeferre chuckles, “Yeah, that doesn't surprise me. What do you want to do?”

Grantaire bites his lip, glancing up and down Combeferre. “Would you mind topping again or-”

Combeferre nods, “I’d like that. Like this, or on your knees?”

“This is good,” Grantaire says, so he bites his lip as Combeferre goes looking for the lube and one of the condoms.

“God,” Courfeyrac pants, glancing over to Grantaire. With that, Grantaire moves just a little closer to him, so he’s within reach to touch, if they want. Grantaire bites his lip, looking as Enjolras glances up from between Courfeyrac’s legs.

Grantaire takes a deep breath and looks back to Combeferre, who leans over him and kisses down his chest as his free hand skims up Grantaire’s thighs. Grantaire bites back a moan and shuts his eyes, focusing on the feel of Combeferre’s hands and the sounds coming from Courfeyrac and Enjolras.

“You good?” Combeferre asks, lips brushing against the base of his neck.

“Yes, very,” Grantaire says, opening his eyes again. With that, Combeferre nods, and slowly moves a finger to work inside of him. Grantaire breathes in, lifting a hand to Combeferre’s shoulder. He finds his other hand being taken by Courfeyrac’s, so Grantaire squeezes his hand back.

Grantaire watches Combeferre’s face, his gaze perhaps even more intent and intense than Enjolras’, but still warm.

Combeferre stretches him out slowly, and Grantaire whines and moans as he does so, looking between Combeferre and the other two.

At some point, Courfeyrac twists his fingers in Enjolras’ hair and groans, “Enjolras, will you fuck me? If you don’t want to, that’s fine.”

Enjolras lifts his head from between Courfeyrac’s legs and smiles, saying, “Of course.” Courfeyrac nods, and glances over to Grantaire, flashing a little smile. Grantaire swallows a moan, and smiles back despite his distraction.

“Ferre,” Grantaire says- he’s definitely ready, and it’s as good a time as any if the other two are moving onto their next steps, too. Combeferre nods, and goes to grab a condom.

Grantaire squeezes Courfeyrac’s hand again as Combeferre pushes his knees back and thrusts into him, and Courfeyrac groans from beside him as he hooks his leg behind Enjolras’ thigh and pulls him even closer.

“Fuck,” Courfeyrac and Enjolras say at the exact same time, which also makes them both laugh, which leads Grantaire and then Combeferre to chuckling, too, before they really start to move their bodies and find a pace.

Between, well, everything that’s going on, Grantaire knows he won’t last long again. He’s almost impressed they managed as much build up as they did. They should get awards for the restraint they’ve shown.

“God, Combeferre,” Grantaire groans, holding onto his shoulder still. He pushes his hips up to meet him and his eyes flick back to Enjolras again, burying his face into Courfeyrac’s neck and moaning loudly.

Combeferre leans back to take Grantaire’s cock in his hand, stroking him as he thrusts in a little harder. Grantaire tilts his head back and grips Combeferre’s shoulder a little tighter, his breath hitching. Grantaire feels Courfeyrac tighten his grip on his hand and, from the sounds of it, reach orgasm shortly after. Grantaire bites his lip.

Grantaire squeezes his eyes shut as he feels heat pool, then he gasps, as he cums again again. He tells Combeferre to keep going, so he does, until he’s following Grantaire over that edge. He glances over, and Enjolras is pulling away from Courfeyrac as well, before they all sort of slump together in a pile, with Enjolras half on top of Courfeyrac and Combeferre’s leg slung over both of Grantaire’s.

“We all had fun?” Courfeyrac asks, running his fingers through Enjolras’ hair, which is fully wrecked at this point. Enjolras nods into his chest.

“Yeah,” Grantaire says, still a little breathless. “I think- we’re good together. All four of us. Like, not just when it comes to sex, but in general.”

Combeferre smiles slowly, kissing Grantaire on the shoulder. “I agree.”

“I’m glad- I’m glad you both brought this up, and that we decided to try this,” Enjolras says, lifting his head from Courfeyrac’s chest. “I want us to keep doing this.”

“Having sex?” Courfeyrac asks, smirk cheeky.

“Dating,” Enjolras says, “and having sex.”

Grantaire nods, “Yeah. We should- we _should_ be boyfriends. When we’re ready for the label.”

“Just let us know,” Combeferre murmurs, and Grantaire nods. “Like we’ve said, we don’t want to rush into anything.”

Grantaire bites his lip, “I know. I mean. I feel like, at this point, we’re probably already there? I’m already emotionally invested, so it doesn’t matter what we _say_ , backing out of it now would hurt no matter what.”

“Awh, honey,” Courfeyrac says, and Grantaire leans to meet him when Courfeyrac goes in for a kiss.

“Obviously I don’t _want_ to walk this back, though. I’m glad we’re doing this,” Grantaire says. “I’m still scared, in some ways. But I think we can make it work.”

Enjolras smiles softly, and so do the other two. “I’m sure we can, R.”

Grantaire nods, and smiles as well.

“Do you two want to try sleeping here tonight?” Combeferre asks, and Grantaire bites his lip, looking at Enjolras.

“I’m good either way,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire hums.

“Yeah, I think we can try.”

“Even if _sleeping_ together doesn’t work out, that doesn’t mean our relationship won’t, I mean, couples can have separate beds,” Courfeyrac says gently.

“We can still try. First, we should probably get cleaned up.”

“Right,” Combeferre says, so they slowly start to move out of the bed. Grantaire and Enjolras go upstairs to use the bathroom there and to get some clothing to wear, and take a pause in Enjolras’ room.

They’re quiet, as they step into pants, until Enjolras glances over at Grantaire. “I will not ask how you are doing, but I will leave the floor open if you’d like to tell me,” Enjolras says carefully, and Grantaire glares at him, before twisting his arms around Enjolras’ middle and pulling him close.

“I feel good. I think we’re going to be okay- better than okay,” Grantaire says quietly, seriously, and Enjolras holds his face to kiss him.

“You amaze me. I love you, Grantaire,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire laughs softly against him.

“I love you too, Enjolras,” Grantaire murmurs. “Now. Let’s go snuggle with our… boyfriends,” he says, a grin slowly spreading along his face as he does. Enjolras nods, quick and happy.

“I’m right behind you, R.”

Grantaire takes Enjolras’ hand and moves towards the door, and they shut off the light to his room to trial back downstairs and meet their boyfriends.

Grantaire’s heart is full and yes, yes, he’s still a little scared. But he has more faith than he thought he would, already. Enjolras is hopeful, his hand is firm in Grantaire’s, and Grantaire thinks, maybe, just maybe, this will work out for the best.

They can take this jump, together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS is the END of the fic (sorta). this fic was such a joy to write and i'm proud of myself for the length of it. There is an epilogue, which I will be publishing very shortly :>


	19. Chapter 19

“Watch out on your left there,” Courfeyrac says, a hand above his brows to guard from the sun, “oh no, the oth- yeah, great. Thanks, Baz.”

Bahorel grunts, then turns around and hefts the box he’s carrying onto the back of the truck.

“Ah, careful!” Musichetta fusses just a few feet away, closer to the door, as Bossuet wobbles with his side of a giant Rubbermaid he’s maneuvering out.

“Easy,” Joly adds, biting his lip and holding up the hand that isn't on his cane. 

“We got it,” Combeferre says, nodding at Bossuet, and they move slowly down the couple of stairs out of the house.

“Almost finished up,” Enjolras says, coming out after them, holding onto a carefully wrapped square.

“Yeah, just have to do it all again in 20 minutes when we drive over to the new place, except in reverse,” Joly quips, and Enjolras just smiles.

“What’s that?” Musichetta asks, and Enjolras clutches the square to his chest.

“It’s R’s portrait of the house. Marius has tried to snatch it at least twice already, so it's staying with me.”

Musichetta tilts her head back to laugh as another pile of boxes exits through the door.

“R, can you even see?” Courfeyrac asks from his spot near the truck.

“Nope.”

“God, let me take something,” Courfeyrac says, walking forward, and Musichetta also moves to pluck a box from him.

“I got it, I got it,” Grantaire insists, but they make him offload two of the boxes. “Ugh. They’re super light.”

“I can tell,” Musichetta says, and the three of them move to stuff the boxes on top of the heavier things already in the truck.

“God. I can’t believe you’re actually moving out,” Marius says, standing with a hand on his hips. “It’s gonna feel so empty.”

“You’ll like the space,” Grantaire promises.

“Are you saying you’re gonna miss us?” Courfeyrac asks, slinging his arms around Marius’ gangly shoulders.

“Um, yeah?” Marius pouts, “of course I’ll miss you guys.”

“Awwh!” Courfeyrac coos.

“Eh, you’ll be over it by tomorrow,” Grantaire says, and Marius just frowns. “Plus, isn’t Eponine moving in with Gavroche, like, next week? You and Cosette will only be alone for like four days.”

“Actually, Eponine is staying here tonight anyway,” Marius says.

“Eponine is what?” Eponine asks, twirling a lampshade on her hand as she bounds down the stairs.

“Staying over, tonight,” Marius says.

“I live here,” Eponine says.

“Not officially,” Marius points out, and she rolls her eyes to the sky.

“I’ve lived her for, like, months,” she scoffs, perching the lampshade on top of one of the other boxes in the truck.

Courfeyrac finally lets go of Marius as Eponine joins them, and he puts his arm around her, and Courfeyrac.

“You have, like, one change of clothes here and nothing else,” Marius argues back.

“Yeah, and I can’t wait to actually have my shit here. I’ve still been living here for months,” Eponine insists, and Marius shrugs against her.

“I think we got everything,” Cosette says, as Combeferre trails out again with another couple boxes. She puts her hands in front of her face. “Oh, I’m so emo.”

“Me too!” Courfeyrac says, stepping away from Marius as Cosette reaches for him.

“We’re literally going to see each other all the time,” Eponine says, glancing at Marius. He shrugs.

“Right?” Grantaire says. “You guys are going to be thanking every fucking God you can think of that we’re not crawling and tripping over each other in the kitchen and the bathrooms all the time! This is going to be so much better than living in a _four_ bedroom house with _eight_ fucking people.”

“But… there are so many memories,” Cosette says. “Think of all the parties we’ve had!”

“We are literally going to keep having parties,” Eponine points out, “ _plus_ , now we’ll be able to party at the big ass fancy house R and co. have, which is objectively way nicer than this dump.”

“Our place isn’t a dump,” Marius defends, albeit weakly.

“Oh, honey, yes it is. Besides, I thought it wasn’t _our_ place, I don’t live here,” Eponine snips.

“Whatever,” Marius groans, and then he kisses her on the cheek.

“Ew,” she sniffs. He kisses her one more time and she laughs and pushes his face away gently, but when he pouts she relents and kisses him on the lips. Grantaire snorts at them.

Cosette squeezes her other side. “It’s still a huge change, even if it’s for the best. I can’t wait to actually move in, like, for real, and to have space to bring our things, but- it’s still sad the other boys will be gone.”

“It is kind of sad,” Enjolras says, still holding onto the painting, looking up at the outside of the house as Combeferre joins the steadily growing group of them and places an arm around Enjolras’ shoulder.

“I mean… literally all of our relationship developments happened here. Well, the romantic ones,” Courfeyrac says wistfully.

“That is true,” Grantaire says, pursing his lips as he takes a step towards Enjolras’ other side. Enjolras shifts the painting to one side and puts his arm around Grantaire’s waist.

“Well,” Cosette says, “loves, we should go inside and make sure nobody forgot anything.”

“I’m sure we got everything,” Marius says, and Eponine nudges his shoulder.

“C’mon,” she hisses, and then glances towards Courfeyrac, who is reaching for Combeferre’s waist, too.

“Ah,” Marius says, so he and the two girls head into the house again.

Enjolras drops his head on Combeferre’s shoulder.

“I can’t believe we’re moving out,” he says.

“I know,” Comebeferre says.

Grantaire bites his lip, and looks at his partners’. “It will be a good change.”

“I know,” Courfeyrac says. “We know. You’ll have space for your art, our clothing will actually fit, we’ll be able to _move around_ in the kitchen.”

“Yeah,” Enjolras sighs.

“It’s still sad,” Grantaire admits, and Courfeyrac sniffs a little. Combeferre pulls him a closer.

“We’ll be back here, like, next week for the housewarming party for Eponine and Cosette,” Combeferre murmurs.

“Yeah,” Enjolras sighs again. “We should... probably get a move on.”

“Yep,” Courfeyrac says, wiping the tears in his eyes.

The four of them slowly step away from each other, and start turning around towards the truck and the cars parked outside of Chez Les Amis.

Musichetta is in the front seat of her car, with Joly in the passenger seat, and Bossuet is in the moving truck with Bahorel.

“I know we will be back here, next week, but- I can send the others on ahead, and we can say one last goodbye before Marius drives us over to the new place, hm?” Grantaire says, and the other three nod wordlessly.

Truthfully, he’s just as attached to this place as the other three are, even though he’s lived there a shorter time than they have.

Courfeyrac was right, pretty much every major event in their relationship took place in this house. They’ve laughed, they’ve cried, they’ve spent countless hours with friends- it’s going to be huge, being in a different place.

Grantaire is glad. The house is seriously, seriously too small for them. But he’s going to miss it.

After he hands the keys to the new place over to Musichetta, Grantaire walks the halls of Chez Les Amis, just like his boyfriends. He winds up in the room _formerly_ known as Courfeyrac’s room, the one that was no longer Courfeyrac’s by the time he started hanging around.

“Hey,” Enjolras says, exiting his room and snaking his arms around Grantaire’s waist.

“Hi,” Grantaire says, staring into the room. It’s been cleared of all his art supplies, and all the stuff Courfeyrac never bothered moving down to Combeferre’s room. They’re leaving the bed, they still have a king for themselves. “Man. If you had’ve told me, when I was lying in this room listening to you get fucked by a new man every week, we’d someday be dating your best friends and moving into a giant house together… I don’t even know, I’d assume you were on something strong.”

Enjolras laughs. “Our boyfriends are your best friends, too.”

“Not the point, Enj.”

“I know,” Enjolras kisses him on the side of the head. “I gotta say, I’m pretty happy with how things are turning out, though.”

“Me too,” Grantaire says, turning around to kiss Enjolras, slow and sweet. Enjolras holds him tight.

“C’mon, R,” Enjolras murmurs against his lips. “Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now it's done done. Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed.


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